


Welcome to Club Katya

by trixiesmattel



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Burlesque, Club Katya, Craig from Whimsically Volatile is in it lol, Drugs, F/F, Fluff, Future depictions of violence, Lesbian AU, Mentions of homophobic slurs at times, More tags will be added as the story progresses, Past Drug Addiction, Pining, Slow Burn, dustin is ivy winters out of drag btw, idk why i went with dela and ivy but i just sort of did
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-05-09 08:30:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14712660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixiesmattel/pseuds/trixiesmattel
Summary: “Which one is Katya?” Trixie asked curiously, ushering over to the stage with a minor gesture, assuming that the owner of the club would be performing at this very moment. Naivety was a trait she would have to learn to lose in this big city.“That depends who’s asking.” The answer definitely did not come from the bartender she’d been conversing with. Spinning on her heels, she was greeted by a blonde woman who was a couple of inches shorter than her. It was already obvious that what she lacked in height difference, she made up for in wit.





	1. We're not in Kansas anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hi, how ya doin'? This is my first ever fanfic so please be gentle with me. I'm a dyke with crippling anxiety and a love for drag queens, and this is just a little AU that is testament to that. If you enjoyed reading what I have so far, let me know. 
> 
> Go buy Hurricane Bianca: From Russia with Hate, as well. Just so you can kind of see the concept behind Club Katya.

“Gin and tonic, please.” Trixie balanced her weight from one leg to another as she stood at the bar, the balls of her feet desperately aching to be taken out of her powder pink high heels that were adorned with crystals. Her body was exhausted enough without the six-inch elevation, and the garter belt digging into her the upper hem of her underwear was growing tiresome. Granted, the blonde knew that she didn’t have to dress herself up with all these accoutrements, but this was a new town and there was no way in hell that she was going to pass up the opportunity to make a statement.

It was safe to say that Los Angeles was the complete polar opposite of Milwaukee. On paper, everything looked perfect; the glitz and glamor of Hollywood, and boundless opportunities at her fingertips. She’d only been here for 12 hours, yet she already realised she’d fallen victim to a cheap façade that had been created by celebrity power-houses. Hollywood Boulevard was nothing but a shit stained street with buskers a plenty, and weed vendors trying to make a dollar. Homesickness seemed to be settling in faster than she had hoped, and the alcohol mixer put in front of her provided a way out.

This club was unlike anything she had previously imagined. It was dimly lit with evenly spaced bar tables, all faced towards a generous stage. There was a certain mood to this venue that couldn't be bought - a certain aspect of class and dignity that only came from years of being in business with a good reputation to match. She felt so out of place, like Dorothy in Oz. Only in this scenario, she didn't have a dog to keep her company. She had no one but herself.

The last thing she wanted to do was get caught up overthinking her cross-country move. She was here for one reason only; to sing and perform. Anyone who set eyes upon her would easily see that there was something special about her. She was clad in a 70’s style mod dress that was accented with long sleeves, embellished with fringe along the hem. Of course, the colour of the fabric perfectly matched her shoes – she had a remarkable eye for detail. Regardless, she definitely didn’t look like a typical Angeleno who was pumped with filler and had a penchant for designer clothing. That was never the life she was accustomed to.

“I haven’t seen you around here before.” The bartender commented with a velvety tone that was the perfect voice for radio. He was suave, and almost looked out of place amongst the enticing display of liquor bottles shelved behind him.

“I’m a burlesque virgin,” The blonde quipped back, taking a lingering sip from the straw of her beverage. “We don’t have places like this back home. The only place you’ll find close to this is a cheap strip club on the bad side of town.”

“Don’t let Katya hear you say that,” As he spoke on, Trixie was able to pinpoint his accent to an extent – Boston. His comeback caused a slight rosy flush to appear on her cheeks, to which she dropped her gaze to the countertop as an attempt to hide her embarrassed features. “I’m Craig by the way.” The male figure held out his hand and she was immediately taken aback. Any contact she’d had here had been so superficial. No one had even bothered to entertain the idea of a handshake.

“I’m Trixie.” She offered him a small smile, meeting his hand gesture, before turning slightly to scan the premises. The sudden movement caused her blonde curls to cascade over her shoulders. It was filled with mostly middle-aged men, and some women who had an obvious appreciation for the art form. “Which one is Katya?” Trixie asked curiously, ushering over to the stage with a minor gesture, assuming that the owner of the club would be performing at this very moment. Naivety was a trait she would have to learn to lose.

“That depends who’s asking.” The answer definitely did not come from the bartender she’d been conversing with. Spinning on her heels, she was greeted by a blonde woman who was a couple of inches shorter than her. It was already obvious that what she lacked in height difference, she made up for in wit. 

“Privyet, krasotka. Menya zavoot Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova,” The woman with the blonde bob and crisp bangs introduced herself with a thick Russian accent. It only caused Trixie’s blush to deepen. “But you can call me Katya.”

“If it isn’t the illusive chanteuse herself.” Craig joked, pouring out a glass of cola for his boss.

“Oh wow,” Trixie interjected. The woman who stood before her was a vision in a long red robe, immaculately tied in a bow to the side to cinch her waist. Her makeup was detailed with a black smoky eye and cherry red lips – a colour that Trixie was sure she recognised from her job working at the MAC counter in the mall to save up to buy her guitar. “Club Katya…this is your – you own this place?” She stammered over her words, feeling intimidated under the Russian’s gaze.

This woman seemed other worldly. It was obvious that she was so confident in her own manner and she exuded beauty by every means of the world. 

“What brings you here, Miss…?” Katya’s accent had returned to an American one as she trailed off. Boston…just like Craig’s. Trixie assumed they’d known each other prior to coming to LA and living out the ‘Hollywood dream’. 

“Trixie Mattel.” She abruptly introduced herself, her fingers finding a home fiddling with the black straw in her drink. There was a pink stamp of her lipstick left behind, but keeping her hands busy was important. Her struggle with anxiety was one that she’d been able to tame quite well, but under Katya’s eye, she felt helpless in the best kind of way. “I booked a flight to Tennessee for my annual trip to Dollywood, but I think the airline got confused and gave me a ticket to Hollywood instead.” There was something so frightening about admitting she’d come to this city to become a singer, so turning it into a joke seemed like the only option.

Katya wheezed with laughter before leaning over to clink her drink against the other blonde’s in a salute. “Why the hell would you want to go there when you’re a living, breathing version of Dolly Parton and Barbie’s lovechild? Mama, you aren’t meant to be a fan. You’re the main event.”

Fortunately, the gin had been easing its way through Trixie’s veins enough to curb her rigidity. She thanked the woman with another grin, entranced to the point where she’d lost her train of thought.  


“Come with me, krasotka,” Katya held out her perfectly manicured hand towards Trixie. From a young age, she’d been taught to not get in cars with strangers, but this was different, right? She was 25-years-old…she could make her own decisions about who was trustworthy or not. Nothing seemed sinister about this woman at all. “I want to show you something. Have you ever been backstage in a room full of beautiful burlesque dancers? I’ve hand-picked all of these women myself and I can assure you, no other club in this city harbors such talent.” 

Trixie took her hand, half expecting her skin to be stone cold, but it was in fact the opposite. Despite all of the trepidation, Katya did have a sense of comfort and warmth about her. She felt safe…or maybe that was the half drunken swill she was clutching in her free hand.

“I have a boyfriend back home, but I’m sure he won’t mind. We love each other very much.” She intended that to be her inner monologue, rather than verbalising it. She was almost convincing herself that he wouldn’t care, despite her tendencies towards women in the past that she so desperately ran from.

“Then why is he back in the Midwest, and you’re here?” Katya’s ear for accents never failed her, and it wasn’t about to with that assumption. “Dip into the fluidity of sexuality. You might like what you see…or maybe you already have.”

She’d been caught there. Why was it so easy for her to up and leave her life back home? She had every prospect of marrying Josh, so why throw that all away so quickly? There was no doubt that she had her own reservations. Part of her reconsidered her move only hours ago – she could go back home and marry him just like her parents wanted. They could live the American dream.

The rest of the walk was silent, but it didn’t take long until they were behind the curtain, being led to a heavy black door which Katya unhinged and pushed open with ease. The vibe of the room was electric and she’d never seen so many women wearing such intricately designed lingerie. Truthfully, she didn’t really know where to look. Everyone was so stunning, whether they were touching up their makeup in the mirror or rehearsing the finishing touches of their final routine. Yes, their costumes were all alike, but it was obvious that every girl brought something so different to the show – they had the opportunity to be themselves whole-heartedly.

“Is this your new trick, Katya?” A sharp-tongued beauty with raven hair didn’t even bat a lash their way, she was too steadied on her reflection in the mirror.

“Violet, what makes you think you’re special enough for me to introduce my lovers to you?” The Russian raised her brow before pushing Trixie in front of her.

“Ladies, I’d like you to meet Trixie Mattel. It’s her first night in the city, so let’s make her feel welcome.” The girls cheered and whooped in response, most of them beaming with smiles. The club owner then turned her attention solely to the Midwestern doll, her voice now just a murmur. “A lot of these girls were in the same boat as you when they first arrived. Hopefully they help you find your feet.”

“Thank you, really.” Trixie responded at the same volume. Realising that she was still holding Katya’s hand, she gave her a gentle squeeze before parting ways.

She was immediately enveloped with hugs and introductions the moment she was let go of, and it was overwhelming, but nice at the same time. Making friends was hard enough, so she appreciated this little gesture from Katya. The whirlwind managed to entertain her for a few minutes before she noticed that the Russian was still in the room, talking to the one girl she hadn’t introduced herself to. By the looks of it though, now wasn’t the time.

“That white substance on your counter better be setting powder, Violet. This isn’t your place of sale. This is my club, we’ve spoken about this before.”


	2. Don't dream it, be it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You didn’t tell me you could sing,” Katya wandered into the room, leaning herself against an old makeup vanity across from them. 
> 
> “You didn’t ask.” Trixie replied with a shrug. She knew she was talented, but she wasn’t exactly the kind of person to throw her talent in other people’s faces.
> 
> “What else do I need to know about you, Miss Trixie Mattel?” It was obvious that the club owner was intrigued by the woman before her. 
> 
> “I used to have a bird named Birdy, I’m rather good at doing people’s makeup and I have a penchant for those 90’s Tamagotchi toys.” As serious as everything was, Katya burst out in a fit of laughter to match. Her short platinum hair swooping over her shoulders as she tilted her head back at the gesture.

It had been a few days since Trixie had first set foot in a certain Russian-born, Bostonian’s club. That evening, she’d exchanged numbers with the vast majority of girls who worked the stage. But unfortunately, she’d fallen short of receiving Katya’s number. There was no doubt that she, of course, knew where to find the blonde and maybe she could safely presume the red-lipped force wasn’t exactly sold on cell phones anyway.

Her recent 72 hours had been spent frantically searching for jobs online. Musical opportunities were coming up short, so she was obliged to settle for, well…anything else. After submitting resumes to administration jobs, customer service roles and even nanny duties, she was quick to hear back from one diner in particular. It was her favourite application out of them all – after a quick web search, the blonde concluded that she’d fit right at home at ‘The Milk Bar’; a retro style milkshake bar with pastel pink uniforms to match.

“I got the job!” Trixie squealed, clutching her phone to her ear. Her excitement was so loud that she was sure her neighbours would complain if they were home. The walls of her apartment were paper thin, and unfortunately, she heard much worse from the other people in the building.

“Trixie, can you just give me a second? Now isn’t a good time.” Josh completely disregarded his girlfriend’s news. Even some simple congratulations would have sufficed, but there was just…nothing. 

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to let you know.” She immediately felt like a scolded pup, dipping her gaze to the floor in embarrassment, despite him not being able to see her. 

“You could have just sent me a text.” His tone stung. She glanced over to the clock beside her bed which read 6:00pm. He shouldn’t have been at work, his shifts usually finishes an hour earlier. 

“But I missed your voice…” Her own expression cracked slightly. “I missed you.”

“Yeah – yeah, I miss you too.” Why did he sound so distracted? He was in the conversation verbally, but his mind was definitely elsewhere.

“Talk soon?” It was her last attempt to salvage the conversation, but instead he hung up without another word.

Her feet carried her to the edge of her bed, slowly taking a seat upon the springy mattress. There were so many thoughts running through her head, intertwined with an array of emotions that could easily spark a headache.

“We love each other very much.” She uttered to herself, as convincingly as possible. This was becoming more and more of an affirmation, rather than a true statement.

* * *

Upon waking the next morning, Trixie could feel the remnants of yesterdays makeup desperately clinging to her pores. The memory of her hitting the pillow the evening before was non-existent, but the sun was up now and that’s all that mattered. Begrudgingly, she heaved herself up from the sheets, sleepily shuffling towards her bathroom. Her eyes adjusted to the reflection in the mirror, and immediately a cringe surfaced her lips. Visible tear marks had trailed down her cheeks, cutting through her make-up, from crying herself to sleep.

She grabbed a make-up wipe from beside the sink and began scrubbing away at the evidence. Before she could get very far, she could hear her phone ringing from an obscure corner of her room. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to anyone…but what if it was Josh? Maybe he was finally in the mood to talk, or maybe he was going to apologize for his short temperament last night.

Immediately, she stopped what she was doing, rummaging through her sheets to find where her phone had fallen. The screen lit up with ‘BenDeLaCreme’. As much as she didn’t want to dive into a conversation, she knew that it was best to. After all, the last thing she wanted to do was lose the friends that Katya was kind enough to introduce her to. 

“DeLa, hi.” She forced some pep into her tone. 

“Trixie oh, thank god. I have a huge favor to ask you.” The urgency was plainly obvious.

“Of course, anything you need.”

“Dustin got called out of town on business last minute, and I can’t find a sitter tonight for Rosie.” The brunette was speaking so fast that Trixie was finding it hard to keep up. “I have work, but Katya has rules about having kids in the club. Please, please, please can you help me out?”

“Don’t be silly, of course I can!” Truthfully, she loved working with children. She used to donate a few hours every week volunteering at the local library in her town, doing storybook readings for toddlers and children. “I have my first shift at the diner today, but I finish at 7. I’ll rush right to the club afterwards, and take her off your hands. What time do you go on stage?” 

“What’s tonight? Friday? So, 9. That would be perfect, Trixie, really. Thank you so much!”

“Anytime, really.”

“Oh, and Trixie?”

“Yes?”

“Congratulations on your new job!”

This was exactly the distraction she needed from her private life.

* * *

“DeLa, why is it that you have a shadow following you?” Katya smirked down at the auburn child who was evidently getting the hang of stringing sentences together by singing along to the background music in the dressing room. “You know the rules.” She was trying to be stern, but her tone was soft around DeLa’s offspring.

Right on cue, Trixie bustled through the changing room door, her handbag nearly flinging off her shoulder in the process. She clumsily hooked it back upon over herself, straightening out her pastel pink, retro work dress which was detailed with a pair of white high-top Converse. She gave a quick greeting to everyone that she recognised.

“Hi, sorry. I came as soon as I could!” There was no doubt that the blonde was flustered, her cheeks pink from running there straight from her premises of income. “She’s mine, well, not _mine_ mine, but I’m the babysitter.”

“Rent must really be sky-rocketing in this city if you have to work two jobs from the moment you land,” Katya mentioned smugly, her teeth biting down into her lower lip momentarily at the sight of Trixie in her work uniform.

“Haven’t you ever heard of a favour?” Trixie teased, arching her brow at the Russian, before making her way over to DeLa’s child, kneeling before her. Politely, she held her hand out to the young one, wondering how the gesture would be perceived. “I’m Trixie.”

“Pink!” Rosie squealed up at her mother, pointing at Trixie’s attire. She playfully clapped her hands together before needily reaching up to be held. 

Happily obliging, Trixie lifted the youngster up, sitting her easily on the side of her hip with her arms securely around her. 

“You look like a Barbie doll.” Rosie cheerfully padded her babysitter’s hair with her small hands, running her fingers through the voluminous strands. 

“Why thank you,” She released one hand from holding on to the little girl, tapping her nose playfully. “For saying it’s past your bedtime, you’re still very awake, huh?” That was more of a joke to DeLa than anyone else, insinuating that any normal child would be winding down at this time of day, but Rosie seemed so full of energy. Hopefully she would just crash soon.

“There’s a props room down the hall if you want to take her there,” Katya suggested, watching the exchange between the two of them. “I just don’t want any regulators coming in and seeing a minor on the club floor.”

“Yes ma’am.” Trixie gave her a nod, before exiting the dressing room that was beginning to rile up as dancers came in to get ready for the stage.

* * *

The props closet seemed to be more generous in size than Trixie’s whole apartment. There was absolutely everything in there; from glittery stage sets to old costumes that the girls had retired from previous acts. Rosie had picked up a pink sequin number that was far too big for her, and was aimlessly strumming a ukulele she had found amongst the chaos. The fabric dragged along the ground as she pranced around the room with glee.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” The Barbie doll lookalike asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her skirt draping over her legs.

“A dancer, like mommy.” The four-year-old held a pose, gracefully lifting the instrument above her head.

“Here, I’ll play something on the ukulele, and you can dance to it. Show me what you got, superstar.” Trixie reached out, taking the implement gently from Rosie's grasp, before she began playing a dumbed down version of a Dolly Parton tune. Picking up the pace as best as she could, she couldn’t help but giggle as the cub created an amateur ballet routine. It was equally adorable and heart-warming.

“ _Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene,  
I’m begging of you please don’t take my man.  
Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene,  
Please don’t take him just because you can._”

Trixie’s smile cracked slightly, the lyrics causing a stir of pain in her chest, immediately directed at her current situation with Josh. He was the last person that she wanted to think about right now.

“ _Your beauty is beyond compare,  
With flaming locks of auburn hair,  
With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green,  
Your smile is like a breath of spring.  
Your voice is soft like summer rain,  
And I cannot compete with you,  
Jolene._”

It was so pure to see a young child having the time of her life, dancing to such a simple instrument, to a song that was way beyond her time. She continued on with the tune, but before she could finish, a knock at the door interrupted the two of them with a startling jump. The hinge on the entry clicked to lock open against the wall, with Katya standing in the doorway. Her attire had changed slightly to a black bodysuit, with customary black stockings that clung to her toned legs. 

“I just came on to check in on everything,” Those familiar crimson lips that she was becoming accustomed to now bore a smile. There was something so comforting about Katya’s presence, and she couldn’t put her finger on why.

“Everything’s super-duper, right Rosie?” The young girl shimmied so that her sequins glistened under the unflattering lights of the room. 

“Super-duper!” Rosie repeated with a beaming grin that matched Trixie’s own. She continued dancing, even without any music playing now. 

“You didn’t tell me you could sing,” Katya wandered into the room, leaning herself against an old makeup vanity across from them. 

“You didn’t ask.” Trixie replied with a shrug. She knew she was talented, but she wasn’t exactly the kind of person to throw her talent in other people’s faces.

“What else do I need to know about you, Miss Trixie Mattel?” It was obvious that the club owner was intrigued by the woman before her. 

“I used to have a bird named Birdy, I’m rather good at doing people’s makeup and I have a penchant for those 90’s Tamagotchi toys.” As serious as everything was, Katya burst out in a fit of laughter to match. Her short platinum hair swooping over her shoulders as she tilted her head back at the gesture.

There was no denying how beautiful Katya was, even under florescent lighting. She had chiselled features, and her toned body was shown off in both the outfits she’d seen her in now. The sight of her alone caused Trixie’s breath to hitch.

“Oh, and I’m a waitress now.” She pointed to the name badge on the left side of her chest which said ‘Hi, my name is…Trixie’, in which she’d filled in her name adorned with two love hearts over the ‘I’s. 

“I’d definitely tip you 20 percent.” Now it was Trixie’s turn to laugh at Katya’s comment. She dropped the ukulele into her lap, before it was snatched right up by Rosie who began strumming irregular notes once more. 

“How kind of you to be a decent human being.”

“I have to make sure the rest of the show is running smoothly, but can I have a word with you after? Since you’re happily obliging favours tonight, I have a proposition for you.” Katya offered a wink before leaving the room. Even just the way she walked left Trixie in awe; the swing of her hips and the perfect rhythm of her high heels hitting the ground was enough to entrance her completely. She was a woman of such poise.

* * *

Just over an hour had passed and Trixie was loosely cradling Rosie in her arms, her legs growing tired from the weight of the small child being asleep for so long on her lap. She let out a faint sigh of relief as the door opened once more, this time being greeted by a thankful DeLa, sans makeup and wearing sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. 

“Thank you so much,” The brunette whispered, careful not to wake Rosie from her slumber. Leaning over to pick up her daughter, she lazily settled her on her hip. Rosie stirred from her sleep slightly, but only to readjust to the new position, now clutching her mother tightly. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing at all, honestly. It was my pleasure.” She assured her friend. Climbing to her feet, she stretched out her muscles slightly before following the dancer out of the props room, closing the door upon her exit. “You don’t happen to know where Katya is, do you? She wanted to have a word with me about something…”

“After a show? Always in the smoking area out back.” DeLa pointed towards the other end of the hallway to a door that evidently led outside. She bent over to give Trixie a thankful kiss on the cheek. “Thank you again, Trix.”

With a final smile and nod, Trixie found herself wandering down the opposite end of the hall to a door embellished with a bright green ‘exit’ sign. As soon as she stepped through, she was nipped by the cooler air outside, causing a faint shiver to appear. Her brown hues immediately found Katya, who was leaning against a wall, looking up at the sky with a cigarette parting from her lips and a small cloud of smoke exhaling from her mouth.

“There are never any stars in LA.” Katya acknowledged the other girl’s presence with a comment. 

“Light pollution.” Trixie said with a matter of fact tone, and a faint shrug. “You’ll never see them here with all the smog anyway.”

“It was the same in Boston. Home has never really been a place where you can see constellations.”

“You can see them in Milwaukee, but I’m not quite sure I’d call that place ‘home’.” 

Katya took another long drag before picking up the box of cigarettes from the ground and offering it over towards Trixie. The long-haired blonde shook her head politely to decline, leaning against the wall opposite to Katya. Silence overcame the pair of them for a moment, but it wasn’t awkward. She felt so at ease and there was something so calming about the fact that this woman didn’t delve deeper into her private life. Interrogation wasn’t something she exactly desired right now.

“I want you to be the opening act for the show tomorrow night.” Katya flicked her cigarette, forcing some ash to fall on the dirty concrete beside her heel.

“What?” Trixie blurted out, completely taken aback. 

“I’ve been wanting to give the audience something different for a while now…and I’m certain that something is you.”

Every time this woman spoke, it was as if her words were so precise. She always seemed so sure of herself, and it was a trait that Trixie couldn’t help but envy. Whenever it was her turn to speak, it was as if she could physically feel the cogs turning in her mind. It always worried her how she would be perceived by society, so she was always careful with her words. Something told her that she wouldn't have to be so particular around Katya.

“I would love to.” Nervously, she chewed the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile. All she had to do was play it cool, calm and collected, despite the fact that she was internally screaming with excitement. 

“Wear whatever you feel the most comfortable in, but heels are mandatory.” The Russian took one final inhale, before dropping the remainder to the ground, stamping it out with the ball of her shoe. “Rehearsals are at 11 tomorrow morning, sharp.” 

There was something so dominant about this woman that caused Trixie to desperately want to know everything about her. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been this put together all her life, and how she came to open up a burlesque club in Los Angeles. There were so many questions to be answered, and hopefully in time they would be. But for now, she would just have to wait.

“I’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you guys are thinking so far, I'm eager to know!


	3. He had it comin'.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Evenin’ guys and dolls,” Trixie beamed into the microphone, nervously smoothing out her skirt with one hand. The other gripped the device. Stage fright was a concept that melted away the moment she started speaking. There was something so gratifying about the electricity of a crowd. It had slowly become a drug that she became addicted to from her first, albeit amateur performance, at the age of 7. 
> 
> “You’ll have to excuse my outfit. I ran straight from work to get here tonight, and it was either this or Violet’s $300 Swarovski nipple tassels.” Amongst the laughter, she noticed a catcall from one of the audience, but she was quick to shove it off. That sound alone made her uncomfortable, but she was willing to let it slide for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a trigger warning at the beginning of this chapter; if you're disturbed by drug use, please don't read ahead.
> 
> Otherwise, I hope you all enjoy it. X
> 
> PS. Have any of y'all caught on with the musical titles of each chapter?

One trait that Trixie took pride in was being punctual. She always gave herself plenty of time to get to and from where she needed to go. Rehearsal today was no exception. The club looked so different in the daytime. Although all of the windows were blacked out, the venue was eerily empty. Before she could take in the sight any further, she heard a pair of stilettos against the dark hardwood floors before a familiar blonde came into view to greet her.

Katya’s scrutiny immediately dropped to the white, scuffed cowboy boots that completed Trixie’s look. Before the Russian could even complain about the fact that she wasn’t wearing heels as she was instructed, Trixie piped up. 

“High heels can be considered a convention for overtly sexualising women,” Her wit was snappy, but she didn’t project it to be snarky at all. Despite her comment, she truly adored wearing high heels at the best of times – she just couldn’t find a pair that would specifically go with her white dress that had lace cut-outs at her waist. Regardless, there was something so tantalising about playfully standing up to Katya, especially when it was all in good jest. 

“A feminist. I’m impressed.” Katya uttered, her gaze averting back to Trixie’s features before escorting her up to the stage. “Did you give Chris your backing track?”

“No, I do everything live.” Trixie said nonchalantly, as she navigated the steps before taking centre stage. The blonde hooked the amplifier chord into the acoustic guitar, before adjusting the matching pastel capo on the neck.

“Whenever you’re ready…”

Trixie secured the instrument in her hands, hugging it gently to her before she began tapping her foot to the assigned beat of the song. After a few bars of strumming, the lyrics to a more modern folk tune flowed from her mouth with a sense of both professionalism and ease. It was blatantly obvious that she’d performed before, and the emotion she conveyed in the song was perfectly matched to her character on stage. It was an evolution of sorts, going from a somewhat shy girl from the back end of Milwaukee, to the one who everyone in a room became fixated on. 

Once her song was over, she unstrapped the guitar from her shoulder, holding it by her side now. Katya gave no applause, but the gleaming smile on her face was enough to let Trixie know that she did a good job. 

“Now it’s your turn,” Trixie mused, tilting her head to the side as she propositioned her. “Show me why you own this club, hm? I’ve seen the other girls perform briefly, so now all that’s left is you.”

The blonde made her way off the stage, her curls bouncing as she skipped down to the front row of shorter, graduated tables. She hoisted herself up on one of the lower tables in front of the stage, before Katya gave a gesture to Chris in the control booth, behind the bar, up on the mezzanine level of the club. 

Trixie’s hands fell in her lap, her fingers fidgeting with one another as the lights dimmed. It was as if she’d done this routine so many times before that Chris knew the lighting and audio cues perfectly. The first few bars of a campy lounge rendition of ‘My Neck, My Back’ began to filter through the speakers. A spotlight illuminated Katya at the back of the stage, her front pressed against the surface as she began grinding down slowly against the wall. The warm illumination shone through her billowing crimson and black hound’s-tooth robe, alluding to a red studded corset, with a suspender stocking belt that clung on to no other form of nylon but just dangled precariously against her strong thighs. 

Katya turned around on the beat, her robe falling open just enough for Trixie to catch a glimpse of the outfit underneath, completed with a pair of high cut underwear and bejewelled fishnet stockings. It all perfectly matched the red soled shoes that she sauntered towards the front of the stage in.

Trixie’s mouth fell agape slightly, her lips becoming dry as hitched breathing departed her mouth. She was fixated on the woman before her, who seemed to be accentuating every lyric with a matching movement that was equally as filthy and comedic. That alone took a hell of a lot of talent.

As the climax of the song began to creep up, in perfect timing, Katya parted her legs, dipping into an agonizingly slow split. Watching on in awe, Trixie shifted her position, crossing her thighs one over the other. Her stomach churned with butterflies in a way that she’d never truly felt before and it caused her to stir slightly.

The Russian blonde stood up, throwing off her robe to the ground dramatically and it only made Trixie’s case worse. Katya promiscuously arched her back in rhythm, rolling her hips until the music finally began fading out, finishing the number with a pose harbouring her arms above her head. There was silence that seemed to deafen the atmosphere for a few long moments.

“Holy shit.” Trixie was in complete amazement. She now knew it was obvious why this woman owned the club. Anyone who looked at Katya could see that she was stunning, but she knew how to work her body in such a way that invoked every possible feeling from Trixie.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to stare.” Katya fired back, running her fingers through her short blonde bob, tousling it perfectly as she wandered down the side stairs adjacent to the stage.

Trixie only squeezed her thighs together tighter, biting the inside of her cheek to take her mind off the reaction that Katya had warranted from her. She did everything in her power to avert her mind to her boyfriend back home. ‘I love him very much,’ she repeated her affirmation over in her mind.

“You weren’t expecting that, were you?” Katya’s tone was laced with smugness, and an eyebrow arch to match. She wandered over to the table where Trixie was sat, her index finger skimming over the vinyl surface as her eyes bore into the younger girl’s profile. Admittedly, Trixie didn’t know where to look since she had been teasingly chastised. She had so many thoughts that were resurfacing after years of suppression when it came to looking at women a certain way. It was becoming more and more difficult to push them to the back of her mind.

“N-No.” The human Barbie doll spoke naively. “I mean, I knew you were going to be good, but you were completely beyond what I imagined.”

“Maybe you could learn the art of burlesque if you’re willing, Trixie?”

* * *

Trixie had made it just in time coming back from her early evening shift waiting tables down the road. In fact, her timing was so precise that she hadn’t left herself any room to even change outfit. Rushing through the side door in the alley, she was met with a flustered Katya. 

“You’re on in one minute, your guitar is in the left wing just before you enter.” The club owner hurried her, willingly freeing her of her handbag and pointing her to a pair of designer nude heels on the floor.

Trixie kicked off her sneakers slipping into the shoes with a thankful smile. She was prepared to compromise and give Katya what she wanted, considering she had cut it so fine with timing. 

“Thank you, I promise I won’t let you down.”

“Get your ass out there!” Katya hissed, playfully nudging Trixie towards the entry of the stage. The lights of the club dimmed right on cue.

“Evenin’ guys and dolls,” Trixie beamed into the microphone, nervously smoothing out her skirt with one hand. The other gripped the device. Stage fright was a concept that melted away the moment she started speaking. There was something so gratifying about the electricity of a crowd. It had slowly become a drug that she became addicted to from her first, albeit amateur performance, at the age of 7. 

“You’ll have to excuse my outfit. I ran straight from work to get here tonight, and it was either this or Violet’s $300 Swarovski nipple tassels.” Amongst the laughter, she noticed a catcall from one of the audience, but she was quick to shove it off. That sound alone made her uncomfortable, but she was willing to let it slide for the moment. 

“But on the plus side, if you come and visit me at ‘The Milk Bar’ on Fountain Avenue, I’ll give you 10% off a strawberry milkshake.” Trixie had become somewhat of an expert with charming people; whether she was working in customer service, or standing front and centre on stage.

“I want to suck on your milkshakes, baby!” The heckle came from the same mess of a man who had jeered her the moment she stepped on stage. It was only one song, she could definitely ignore him for five or so minutes. To her right, hovering behind the curtain was a security guard, to whom she gave an assuring smile. He was waiting for her word to escort any troublemakers or overzealous men. It was nice to know that Katya had those kinds of precautions in place.

Gripping her guitar, she moved it around to her front, her fingers expertly plucking at the strings to the tune of ‘Emmylou’ by First Aid Kit. She was wary about doing a song that was too country for the audience members. This wasn’t a folk bar, and live music wasn’t even a given in this space, so she had to be gentle with them.

“Oh, the bitter winds are coming in,  
And I'm already missing the summer,  
Stockholm's cold, but I've been told,  
I was born to endure this kind of weather,  
When it's you I find like a ghost in my mind,  
I am defeated and I gladly wear the crown,

I'll be your Emmylou and I'll be your June,  
If you'll be my Gram and my Johnny too,  
No, I'm not asking much of you,  
Just sing, little darling, sing with me.”

She continued the rest of the song, finishing it off with a polite curtsey. The audience whooped and cheered, prolonging the grin that was plastered on her lips. This is what Trixie loved doing. It didn’t come from a narcissistic standpoint, either. It was refreshing to tear people away from their life outside, and give them a space where they can hear a song that triggers an emotion – whether that be happiness, sadness or even nostalgia. 

The crowd evidently wanted an encore, but Katya had only given her a certain time limit. The woman was meticulous about her schedule for the evening, and Trixie certainly wasn’t about to get on her bad side. 

“Thank you so much for all the love tonight,” A gentle flush appeared on her cheeks, the affection growing to be too much, but she’d brush it off as the heat radiating from the stage lights. “Now on to the real fucking show. Please welcome to the girls that you came here for.” There was something so delicious about swear words departing her lips. She looked like a picture, but when provoked, had the mouth of a sailor.

Exiting on the side of the stage by the security guard, she gently rubbed his arm on the way, mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ for keeping everything in check. Trixie was grateful for his presence, and the fact that Katya truly respected her employees.

She placed her guitar back in its case, locking it up before carrying it carefully into the dressing room for safe keeping. The location was empty, with all the girls now introducing the show with their first number. Katya wasn’t even around to give her feedback. Rather than waiting, she knew that she deserved a drink after her performance tonight. Trixie was proud of herself, so why not?

Finding her way on to the club floor, she aimed for a beeline towards the bar before she felt a tug on her arm. Stopping suddenly, she spun on her heels. 

“Hey babe.” It was the same heckler that she’d tried her absolute best to disregard.

“Oh, hi.” The smile on her lips was completely false.

“A pretty girl like you deserves a drink after the show you put on.” He eyed her from top to toe, causing Trixie to cross her arms over her chest in an attempt to shield some of her body from his view.

“It’s okay, I was just going to get one for myself.” Wrong answer, apparently.

“You stay put, babe,” Every time Trixie heard that nickname, she couldn’t help but inwardly grimace. “I got you covered.”

Before she could respond, he had rushed to the bar. She could run away now, but what if she ran into him again before the night was over? Surely that would mean bad news. Her feet shuffled uncomfortably in her heels as she turned her attention back to the stage where the dancers were just finishing their number with a roaring applause from the audience.

A beautiful blonde dancer by the name of Pearl stayed to command the stage, a light pink feather boa around her shoulders, teasingly slinking down to the ground. Before the accessory could even reach the floor, the man had returned with two drinks in hand, one for either of them. He passed her what looked like a simple vodka soda – it wasn’t her favourite, but being rude wasn’t on her agenda either.

“You were introduced on-stage as Trixie…but what’s your real name?” The man took a sip from his glass, before setting it down and cockily straightening his tie. 

“My real name _is_ Trixie.” Her gaze rarely settled upon him, nor did she bother to ask the question in return. Politely, she took a sip from her straw, with a faint pout. Vodka tasted different to what she had remembered, apparently. ‘Maybe it was just the brand that they used,’ she thought.

“I’m Richard by the way,” He added quickly. He seemed weirdly eager, but it only made Trixie more uncomfortable. Hopefully the alcohol would make this whole exchange a little more bearable. Surely after she was done, she could just sneak backstage again with the girls. “I work in HR for a record company.” He gave a nod that insinuated she should be impressed by the fact he implied her had connections.

Trixie Mattel was not going to fuck her way to the top.

“Cool.” She murmured, unimpressed and took another sip.

Minutes more of mindless small-talk passed and Trixie’s vision slowly began to become blurred. It was one drink – it shouldn’t have had this effect on her. Steadying herself, her hands grasped the edge of the table and Richard’s eyes on her only caused her to sweat. Everything was spinning around her, yet no matter where she looked, she couldn’t find a chair.

“Could you excuse me for a second?” She almost pleaded.

“It’s okay, babe, I’ll help you, come on.” Richard immediately clutched her arm, tighter than before. It caused her to wince in disdain. She wanted to protest, but she could barely stand.

“No, please.”

“I’ll take you home, babe. Come on, quickly.” He was becoming antsy, gauging the people around him. To any other person, it would have looked like Trixie had just had too much to drink.

“Please let go of me.” As much as she tried to pull away, she couldn’t. Her body felt so limp and she could feel her feet dragging as she was ushered towards the exit with him. Before she knew it, she was leaning against him to even stay upright.

The blonde was hoisted up the staircase, one level at a time before they reached the street. His car was front and centre, and it certainly looked nothing like he worked at a recording company…or at least one that was at all successful. 

“I don’t want to go home.” She gave up one final protest. “I don’t want to go home with you.” The cars passing by on the street began blurring into one and she resisted further against his grasp. “I have a boyfriend.” 

“Well, he’s not here tonight, is he?” He smirked, opening up the door with a creak.

“Trixie, is everything alright?” 

She leaned back at the voice, her eyes lolling, but she could just about make out Katya’s figure.

“I don’t –” Her speech was incoherent, constraining as much articulation as possible in the next sentence. “I don’t want to go home with him.”

It was immediately apparent to Katya that Trixie had consumed an illegal substance which she hadn’t planned on taking. The Bostonian knew the sight all too well from her own past with drugs and alcohol. 

“That’s not what you said before.” Richard continued trying to coax her into the vehicle. 

Katya was at Trixie’s side before another word from either party could be spoken. She found herself depending on her boss for support, but the man’s grip on her wouldn’t budge. 

“He’s hurting me.” She strangled through a whine, attempting to yank away her arm, but failing miserably.

With gritted teeth, Katya abruptly threw a punch in the direction of his face, causing him to yelp in pain and finally loosen his hold. Instinctively, Trixie messily seized Katya’s hand, watching lazily as the man fell to the gutter of the pavement.

“Don’t you ever come back to my club, you filthy excuse of a human being.” The Russian stepped forward, causing the blonde beside her to sway slightly. Katya swiftly dug the heel of her stiletto into the man’s crotch in one fluid, yet abrasive movement.

Despite being so out of control, Trixie swore she felt Katya’s hand protectively tighten against her own. 

* * *

Trixie was now perched in a secluded booth of the club, her head resting comfortably in the crook of Katya’s neck. The music resounded so dull in her ears, but she tried her hardest to focus on what she could physically feel. Katya’s fingers were soothingly running their way through her golden locks, untangling any knots that had formed from the ordeal. The stage was still visible, so she was still able to supervise the show completely.

Trixie’s fingers found their way on to Katya’s hips, balancing herself as much as she could. Her head was still reeling from whatever Richard had slipped into her drink. Her eyelids were growing so heavy and it was becoming increasingly harder to keep the club in view.

“You’re safe now, Trixie.” Katya’s whisper seemed to echo in her ears. “Try not to close your eyes though, I don’t want you falling unconscious on me.” The woman’s fingertips found Trixie’s hand resting on her hips, her own index gently pressing against her pulse just in case the younger blonde dipped into a slumber.

“Thank you.” Trixie’s voice was cracked with desperation. She pulled back just enough to see Katya’s face. The proximity caused her view to become reasonably clear enough. 

“Midwestern hospitality doesn’t exist in LA unless you know the person well,” Katya clarified. “Remember that, sweetheart.”


	4. Tell me more, tell me more.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You could never look stupid.” Katya’s voice rang from the bedroom. “Please let me see?” 
> 
> A huff fell from Trixie’s lips as she tore herself away from her own contemplation. Hesitantly, she opened up the bathroom door to the blonde sitting excitedly sitting on the edge of the bed. 
> 
> “Well, fuck…” 
> 
> “I know, it’s awful.” Trixie’s lips formed a pout as she attempted to feebly adjust the tabs holding up her stockings. 
> 
> Katya immediately shook her head in protest, silencing her quickly. “Are you kidding me, Trix?” The nickname alone brought a smile to her features. “You’re gorgeous and this outfit is no exception.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm sorry this is a little later than the weekly update schedule I'd imagined but...you guys wouldn't fucking believe my week. It was magical.
> 
> This chapter is a whole lot of fluff.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Her eyes flickered momentarily, as her unfamiliar surroundings sharpened into focus. Trixie stirred for a second longer, distastefully groaning at the sun’s glare filtering through a bare window in the room. The blonde brought her hands to her face, her fingertips rubbing her eyes and ridding her eyelids from any built-up mascara desperately clinging to her lashes. She sat up, scanning the room once more. This definitely wasn’t her apartment – the bedroom alone was larger than the joint kitchen and sleeping area of her studio. 

Forcing her feet on to the hardwood floor, it was only now that she felt the battering pain against her temples. Last night’s memories were tainted with blackouts, leaving her with only brief recollections of being saved by Katya outside the club. Hoisting herself up from the mattress, her muscles ached against the echo of her headache. 

Her attire was still her work uniform from the night prior, not having had time to change at the club. The whereabouts of her shoes were a completely different matter that failed to enthuse her at all right now. A small shiver overtook her, and her eyes instinctively went to the black hoodie strewn over a chair in the corner of the room.

There was no information in this room at all to signify who she was currently staying with. She walked over to the garment, picking it up and inspecting it before the scent of stale cigarettes and rich, amber perfume hit her. Katya.

Pulling the sweater over her head, she was quick to notice a small smattering of bruises along her right arm, almost making out the shape of a hand-print. The sight alone spurred a wince from her expression, more of last night’s events coming back to her now. Pushing them from the perimeter of her mind, she exited the room to find an empty apartment. 

She could call out to Katya, but what if this woman didn’t live alone? Did she want to bring any more attention to herself? Silence was a comfortable choice now. A soft breeze filtered in, the fabric covering her arms now suppressed any goosebumps arising on her skin from the cool Los Angeles weather in Autumn. 

Her hues averted to the source of the breeze, a large window opening out on to a fire escape. On the step, she noticed a blonde with her back to her, and cigarette in hand. The sight alone was relaxing to Trixie – a sense of relief washing over her as she confirmed the owner of the apartment. She made her way through the space, rather gracefully clambering out of the window to sit beside Katya.

The Los Angeles skyline came into view, albeit slightly foggy. It was a view that immediately silenced last night’s debacle, and fully allowed her to live in this very moment.

“How are you feeling?” The Russian broke the silence, her voice slightly huskier than usual as she blew an exhale away from Trixie’s vicinity. 

It was strange seeing Katya just wearing an oversized t-shirt that barely grazed the tops of her thighs; usually she was exhibiting a corset and a brand of high heels that cost more than Trixie’s rent for the month. The woman was also donning a more natural look, her skin lightly bronzed with winged eyeliner accompanying her look. Her lips were prickled pink from the biting breeze that met them every now and then – no red lipstick for once. It was a slightly jarring look, but it didn’t take away from her splendour by any means.

“I’ve been better.” Trixie responded, her hands busying themselves on the hem of her newly adopted sweatshirt which was admittedly a little snug around the chest.

“I bet.” An apologetic smile crossed Katya’s lips, turning to face the younger girl beside her.

Trixie was adamant that she looked a mess right now. Her makeup was smudged under her eyes, and her hair was mussed from sleeping. For someone who took so much pride in how she presented herself to the world, she almost felt embarrassed about her state. Besides…she was now wearing black; a colour that barely ever graced her skin.

“Hold this.” Katya ushered her to take the cigarette for a second, and Trixie complied, before she felt the woman’s hands gently cup her jawline. She immediately melted into her touch. 

Tilting her head back slightly, her eyes flickered to a close, the pads of Katya’s thumbs gently wiping away any excess eye makeup that stained Trixie’s skin under her irises. The clouded sunlight crept on to her skin, warming it for a few long seconds before feeling her fingertips at the corner of her own mouth, cleaning up the residue of her lipstick. Her lips parted slightly at her touch which lingered a moment longer. 

Upon opening her eyes, Trixie gave her a gentle smile. If Katya hadn’t come to save her yesterday evening then she would be in an extremely different circumstance right now. It was true that she had always lived a sheltered life in a certain sense, but there was much more to her past that she hadn’t revealed to anyone here. The thought of doing so was too terrifying.

Trixie gently placed the cigarette back between Katya’s willing lips. 

“I care about all of my girls so much,” There was pain now in Katya’s voice, almost insinuating that drink spiking and drugs were almost a given in this nightlife environment. “I know what it’s like to be at rock bottom, and I can’t bear the thought of any of you getting close to that point.”

Trixie’s hand settled upon Katya’s knee, gently running circles against her skin with her thumb to calm her down. She wasn’t used to the amount of vulnerability that she was seeing, but it was nice to be let in like this.

“You can’t be there to protect everyone constantly,” Trixie noted with a small shrug. “But you try your damn best to do so.”

Katya’s fingertips found Trixie’s on her leg, intertwining them. The proximity was something that Trixie didn’t know she craved until now. She was always content in her own company, but it was always nice to feel this kind of connection.  
“After last night, I feel like I owe you more than I have to give,” Trixie continued. “I’m just lucky that it was your bed that I woke up in…not his.”

Katya took one final inhale from her cigarette before extinguishing it in the ashtray beside her.

“You’re fortunate. Usually I kick my women out before 7am.” The Bostonian wheezed with laughter that could only be matched by Trixie’s giggle.

“I have a boyfriend, thank you very much.” Trixie said matter-of-factly, but it sent shockwaves through her heart. Surely, she should have been more upset that her boyfriend was on the other side of the country but there was so much lost context. Regardless, she was positive that Katya would never take advantage of her under any circumstances, especially if she was under the influence.

The sudden realisation that Katya said ‘women’, rather than men, sent her brain into meltdown. But god forbid if she’d let that show. Her strange sense of elation would be completely kept under wraps.

“Do you have work today?” The Russian swerved the topic with ease.

“Nope.”

“Great. I have an idea. But first, coffee and breakfast.”

* * *

“This is stupid!” Trixie called from the bathroom, her reflection staring back at her in the mirror. “I feel stupid!”

She was clad in a clumsily tied black corset, matching lace panties and a garter belt with stockings to match. The sight was something that Trixie had never beheld of herself before. The underwear and bustier were a little too small for her hips and chest, but it all matched nonetheless. Despite being mostly comfortable in her own skin, this complete change of outfit left little to the imagination at all. 

“You could never look stupid.” Katya’s voice rang from the bedroom. “Please let me see?” 

A huff fell from Trixie’s lips as she tore herself away from her own contemplation. Hesitantly, she opened up the bathroom door to the blonde sitting excitedly sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Well, fuck…” 

“I know, it’s awful.” Trixie’s lips formed a pout as she attempted to feebly adjust the tabs holding up her stockings. 

Katya immediately shook her head in protest, silencing her quickly. “Are you kidding me, Trix?” The nickname alone brought a smile to her features. “You’re gorgeous and this outfit is no exception.”

“Can you help me with the corset?” Not being good with compliments, Trixie turned around, revealing her messily laced back. Before she could make an excuse for herself, she had been lightly pushed up against the archway of the door, her hands bracing herself along the closing.

“Breathe in.” Katya urged before hastily pulling the ribbon as tightly as possible and re-threading it through the hooks of the corset. 

The pull elicited a gasp from Trixie as she held on to plaster of the wall. Her body worked against her as Katya laced the garment from behind.

“Jesus, you look like an X-rated Barbie doll.” Katya commented, as Trixie fluffed her blonde locks, turning on her heel so they were face to face.

“I need some shoes if you’re going to complete this damn outfit.” She held out her hand, ushering Katya to bring her a pair that would match, before dipping her head slightly and hiding the blush that had crept up on to her cheeks from the compliment.

“What size are you?”

“Nine.”

“I think I have an eight and a half in here somewhere. The stockings should help you squeeze into them.”

Only a minute later, Katya returned, shoving a pair of spiked black heels into Trixie’s awaiting hands. She winced slightly as the spikes pricked her skin momentarily before arching her brow at the woman before her. 

“These look like they could kill someone.”

“Careful, mama, they might still have blood on them.” Katya winked in return. 

Bending over, she slipped them on with a small squeeze, noticing the shorter woman’s eyes watching her every move. Admittedly, Trixie felt a lot more confident in the attire now that she had a pair of heels on. 

“Can you strike a pose, krasotka?” Katya rushed around to the other side of her bedroom, picking up a vintage polaroid camera that Trixie was sure was only for decorative purposes earlier.

The long-haired blonde whined, her pout only deepening. 

“I don’t model, Katya,” She protested. “What is this even for?”

“Shut up, just do something.” Katya waved her free hand, exasperated by the woman before her.

Trixie huffed before leaning her back against the doorway once more. She lifted one of her legs, bending it against the same wall she relied on. Instinctively, she raised one hand into her blonde hair, before finally arching her back. It was a pose she’d seen so many times before when she used to secretly look up photos of pin-up girls growing up. Whether she liked it or not, those models were a huge influence in her life, as were Barbie dolls, of course. She was now a breathtaking combination of the two.

Katya snapped a picture, the flash briefly blinding Trixie’s peripheral vision. She went back to standing as the Russian approached her, shaking the polaroid to life. It was only then that the older of the two spotted the bruises discolouring Trixie’s arm.

“I’ll fucking kill him.” She said through gritted teeth.

“I was so out of it, I barely felt it.” Trixie lied, wanting to seem stronger than what she actually was. Last night had shaken her up a bit, but the last thing she wanted was for Katya to be worried.

“If I see him again, I’ll castrate him, I swear to god.”

“What’s the picture for anyway?” Now it was Trixie’s turn to change the subject.

“We have castings soon. I’m putting your name down.” Katya smirked, leaning up to gently tap the Barbie doll’s nose once.

“W-What!?” Trixie immediately shook her head, shooting down the idea. “No, Katya. I don’t…I don’t dance. I don’t know how to.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t learn.”

* * *

Katya rarely ever got a break when it came to work. Monday nights were the only evening when the club was closed, and even then, she still went in to take inventory and do any admin that had rolled through. Tonight was the first time in almost six months that she had taken time off. Everything could easily be tended to the next day, but her company was much more important to her. It wasn’t about building rapport with her clientele anymore – she was genuinely getting to know Trixie on a level that wasn’t strictly professional.

“So, let me get this straight, you became a vegetarian because you saw the pig in Charlotte’s Web and decided you didn’t want to eat animals?” Katya realised the more she strung that sentence along, the more it made sense for anyone with a decent moral compass to do so.

“Correct.” Trixie gave her a gentle nod, her chopsticks toying with the noodles in her takeaway container as she sat cross-legged on the ground. “But I don’t ever push my agenda on anyone else, or force them to watch Charlotte’s Web…unlike you with this stupid film.” She gestured towards the television which was playing ‘Contact’, supposedly Katya’s favourite movie.

“Mama, don’t even go there. This is a cinematic masterpiece,” Katya quickly defending herself, a couple of grains of fried rice flying out of her mouth.

The response caused a steep laugh from Trixie, before she was interrupted by the sound of her phone in her handbag that Katya had kindly placed in the corner of the room the night before.

Abruptly, she set her dinner down on the coffee table before fumbling herself up from the ground and rushing to collect her incessant cell phone. The last thing that she wanted was to be interrupted with Katya. After spending the day together, she’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm with her, which was now being jeopardised by her boyfriend’s name flashing across the screen.

Her heart sank, and she was sure her face turned and shoulders slumped along with it. 

“Who is it?” Katya picked up on Trixie’s change of demeanour immediately.

“Josh – my boyfriend.” She clarified the last part, having not really named him to her in the past.

“Oh.” The Bostonian did her best to quash her disappointment. Her fork negligently sifted through the grains of rice in her plastic takeaway container.

Trixie was frozen. She was conflicted, in every sense of the word. For once, she didn’t want to speak to him, especially considering the fact that they hadn’t talk since she’d told him she’d gotten a job as a waitress. There was no pride in saying to him that she performed a gig at a burlesque bar, because he wouldn’t care. Nor would he feel sorry for her getting her drink spiked.

The two had been together since high school; an unlikely pairing at best. She always had her head in the books and he was the typical football jock. When she was that young, she never thought it could get any better – it was as if it had been a scripted romantic comedy. But all films come to an end, much like all relationships.

Trixie took a deep breath before answering.

“Hi,” Her greeting was far from enthusiastic. Usually she’d answer his calls with an adorable pet name that had stuck for years, but not tonight. 

“You didn’t call me yesterday.” His voice was strained.

“You said you couldn’t talk, so I just assumed I’d wait for you to call me.” Her tone was purely innocent – no malice intended, but it seemed to spark that familiar anger in Josh that’d spring up more and more. Her palms began to sweat, making holding the phone a lot more difficult.

This was most definitely a talk that she didn’t want to have in front of Katya. Excusing herself with a polite smile, she wandered into the bedroom, straight through to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

* * *

The film on the television screen had reeled to a close, the credits rolling by on the screen. It had been just over half an hour since Trixie had retreated into the bathroom with her phone.

“Trix?”

No answer. 

The platinum blonde stood up, cautiously making her way towards the bathroom before rapping her knuckles against the door gently.

“Trixie, are you alright?” 

She could hear sniffling on the other side of the door, amongst a muffled ‘yes’ response.

“Can I come in?”

The same similar sound echoed through the crack before Katya eased open the doorknob to find Trixie in tears on the floor. This was getting to be a theme that she refused to become accustomed to.

“He broke up with me.” Trixie muttered with a small shrug.

“I’m sorry.” Katya sat herself down on the cold tiles right beside her, looping an arm around her waist. Trixie’s head fell on to her shoulder, just like the after-events from the evening before, just in a different location.

“I think I convinced myself that it was working for so long, even though it was falling apart right in front of my eyes,” Her breathing was ragged, but she was audible.

“It’s normal to have clouded judgment when it comes to love,” Katya urged. “Sometimes our true future reveals itself after a long onslaught of pain. You have to go through Winter if you want to get to Summer…” 

Trixie had noticed that Katya tended to ramble, but she found it endearing. When she was at work she was always so precise with her words, but in her own home, and in Trixie’s company, she could just talk, and talk, and talk.

“…and Barbara, _Winter is coming_.” Katya mimicked a character voice to suit her Game of Thrones analogy perfectly.

“Winter came early for me, you bitch.” Trixie teased, a smile now playing on the curves of her lips. “I’m not upset because he broke it off…I’m mad at myself for being so naïve and not believing in reality.”

“Being optimistic is a covetable trait,” Katya smoothed the younger woman’s hair down, pressing a consolation kiss upon her forehead. “Besides, you’ll need some of it if I’m training you up to dance on my stage.”

Trixie nudged her elbow into Katya’s ribs playfully. 

“Can I sleep here again tonight? I promise I’ll be out of your hair by the morning. 7am, right?” 

“My, my, we do move on quickly, don’t we?” Katya wheezed, getting up from the icy ceramic and pulling Trixie with her. 

“Haven’t you heard? I’m pro-hoe now.” Trixie joked, letting go of her hand, racing towards the bed quickly, diving straight on to it and laying down in a comical lounge position. 

“Don’t be a monster, at least go brush your teeth first. I have a spare toothbrush in the drawer.” 

The blonde on top of the quilt groaned, falling back against the pillows.

“Why do you always have to kill the mood?” Trixie’s tone was pure satire, which was compromised with Katya’s more sarcastic one.

“Oh yeah, your tears really get me off, krasotka.” Katya rolled her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think so far - I love hearing your feedback so much.


	5. You just gotta prove you're not a pussy anymore.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Trixie had her drink spiked a few days ago,” Katya replied almost immediately. The tension around the table had abruptly shifted, and Trixie had never felt more out of place. She didn’t like being a damsel in distress; that wasn’t her shtick. “So, ladies, if you want anything, you go directly to Craig or get one of the waiters to serve you.”
> 
> “She should have never taken a drink from a guy whose nickname is ‘Dick’.” Pearl snorted, her black coffee warming the palms of her hands. 
> 
> Violet was completely silent again, maybe even more so than before. Trixie wondered whether or not this woman had a past with drink spiking or an overall history with drugs – maybe that’s why this conversation was leading her so astray. 
> 
> “The point is, you’re single now Trixie. You can roam free.” DeLa giggled.
> 
> Trixie swore she felt Katya’s grip on her tighten at that comment. Part of her desperately wished that the fabric of her work uniform wasn’t separating her from having potential skin-on-skin contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title courtesy of 'Heathers: The Musical'. If you can clock the other musical titles, I'll love you forever.

Trixie crossed her arms over her chest as her brown hues scanned the line-up of girls beside her. They had all changed into beautiful pieces of lingerie and corsets that Trixie could only imagine wearing. She looked so out of place in a sports bra, high waisted yoga leggings and dance heels (a pair which had been leant to her by Katya). All the women, par one she shared the stage with, looked as though they’d been dancing for years. Trixie and another girl donning dyed blue hair and messy fishnet stockings seemed to have completely neglected the supposed dress code.

“Alright ladies,” Katya clapped her hands twice from the bar table in front of the stage. The surface was decorated with resumes, headshots and of course, Trixie’s polaroid that she’d taken the other night. Beside her, Craig was sat ticking off some form of a roster on a clipboard. 

“I’d like to introduce you to my dancers; Pearl, Violet, Kim and DeLa.” The girls filtered out on to the other half of the stage in the order they were called. Kim and DeLa gave the newbies an encouraging smile, whilst Pearl and Violet looked each one up and down, deadpanning at the sight. Scare tactics, maybe.

Trixie had obviously met them all prior to this very moment, but that didn’t calm her nerves at all. 

“They’re going to perform a short number for you, which you then have to re-create as a group. Afterwards, I’ll call your name one by one and you can do your pre-prepared individual routine.”

As soon as Trixie heard the last part of the sentence, her eyes widened. Katya hadn’t told her to prepare anything whatsoever, so she hadn’t. Trixie Mattel was going to make a fool out of herself in front of her new friends, these experienced dancers, and Katya. Immediately, she raised her hand in protest.

“Yes, Trixie?”

“What if we haven’t prepared an individual number?” The question brought about a scoff from some of the other potential candidates.

“Well, as the French say, les emmerdes, ça arrive.” Katya smirked.

“You could have said ‘shit happens’ in English. Sheesh.” Trixie rolled her eyes and quietly retorted, noticing that Katya was impressed at the fact that she understood French. The blonde before her sifted through the papers with a smile on her face, almost as if she was trying to conceal it.

Another moment went by.

“Girls, are you ready?” Katya asked her employees and they all gave a single nod before getting into position.

The club owner ushered up to the booth above the bar with a single flick of her hand and a jazz track started playing. All four of the dancers moved with such finesse, oozing sensuality from the second the music started. They moved their hips in time with the rhythm, kicking up their legs on certain beats and running their hands over their own curves. They knew this song to a tee, and they were going to make it as difficult as possible for the new girls. Of course, there was a standard to uphold here, and it was becoming blatantly obvious that Trixie was far from what they were looking for.

Once their number was over, Trixie let out a shaky breath. She had a pretty good memory for the most part, and she assumed she could just improvise what she couldn’t remember. The current employees moved further to the side of the stage as the new girls began spreading out in the space.

“Good luck everyone.” Katya cheered them on before counting down from five, and ushering up to the booth above again.

Trixie was as fluid with her movements as possible. Truthfully, she wasn’t being one-hundred percent honest yesterday when she said she didn’t know how to dance. When she was younger, she learnt how to tap-dance and it became another creative outlet for her, alongside learning guitar and singing. She wasn’t exactly the best at it, but she knew how to keep time and how to learn a routine reasonably well.

The number ended quicker than it started and one by one, they dissipated to the sides of the stage making room for girls to perform singularly. They seemed to all have given Chris their tracks beforehand and had their routines perfected. The majority of the contenders were the same, stunting splits and kicks in perfect timing, all apart from the blue-haired girl that had given her name to Katya upon her performance; Adore. She had more a grunge vibe to her, and she performed to a Nirvana song. It was the last thing they all expected, but she was phenomenal. 

“Trix, you’re lucky last.” Katya called, handing Adore’s headshot to Craig.

“Oh look, Violet’s replacement.” Pearl heckled only to be hit in the arm by the raven-haired beauty beside her. Kim and DeLa chuckled in unison at the gag.

“Um,” The blonde stammered, glancing up at Chris in the booth. “Do you have ‘These Boots Are Made for Walking’ by Nancy Sinatra?” She watched as he searched through his laptop before giving her a ‘thumbs up’.

Trixie turned on her heels towards the back of the stage as she was counted down to the first few bars of the song. She lifted her arms above her head briefly, before trailing her fingers down the back of her right arm, swaying her hips in time with the beat. As soon as the lyrics began, she slowly spun to face Katya.

‘You keep saying you got something for me,’ Her lips moved along with the lyrics with impeccable precision. She pointed towards Katya for a moment, completely disregarding everyone else in the room. If she was to even think about the people watching her right now, she might have combusted. She was used to singing and playing guitar in front of a crowd, but this…not so much.

‘Something you call love, but confess. You’ve been a’messin’ where you shouldn’t have been a’messin’,’ Teasingly, Trixie’s hands slipped along the centre of her chest, down her stomach and gently trailing between her legs. She parted her thighs, perching herself down, her eyes still baring into Katya’s.

‘And now someone else is getting all your best. These boots are made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do,” The fingertips of her right hand tracked from her ankle up the length of her leg, to the expanse of her torso as she jutted out her hip. ‘One of these days, these boots are gonna walk all over you.’

She could feel her hair coming loose from her bun. Reaching up, she pulled the clip, freeing her hair which gave the number a more dramatic effect anyway. Her mannerisms continued on for the rest of the song, until it met its demise with a fade out. By this point, Trixie was on her knees, her chest heaving with panting breaths. Awkwardly, she scrambled on to her feet, anxiously watching both Katya and Craig.

He muttered something to Katya, taking Trixie’s polaroid on to the table and scribbling something at the base of the photo. Katya sat back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, still fixated on the blonde bombshell who stood centre stage. 

“Just to clarify, I don’t want to be anyone’s replacement.” Trixie’s tone was almost apologetic towards Violet regarding Pearl’s earlier comment.

Trixie padded her way back to the group of auditioning girls who were all whispering amongst themselves as Katya made her final deliberation…all except for Adore. She assumed there would be call-backs for this kind of thing. 

“You were amazing,” The human Barbie doll reassured the blue haired woman. “I mean, Nirvana? I love it. It was so different.”

“Oh, girl, thank you.” Adore bent down slightly, adjusting her fishnets back into the correct placement. “I could say the same about you with Nancy Sinatra!” 

This girl exuded such a cool, yet playful energy. It was obvious that she was different to everyone else here, much like Trixie. But she upheld such an alternative style. Nonetheless, her nature was inviting, and it was something that she was thankful for considering the situation that Katya had put her in.

“I feel a little stupid for not coming prepared.” She admitted with a bashful shrug.

“Don’t feel stupid, you fucking killed it out there.” Adore was quick to support her. She’d obviously met the other good girl in the pack that didn’t want to tear anyone down. 

“Trixie, Adore…can you stay behind? The rest of you girls are free to go.” The Bostonian’s accent echoed throughout the venue and the others filtered off stage with frustrated sighs, some shaking their heads in disdain at the two left behind. Katya’s already employed dancers retreated to their dressing room.

Craig excused himself to take inventory in the bar at the back of the club, before Katya waltzed on stage with a big grin, her white teeth basically shining under the spotlights. She tilted her sharp jawline up, the two girls under her scrutiny now. Admittedly, it spurred Trixie’s nerves on in a way that left her speechless. 

Katya seemed to have that effect on her; she was this woman who was temptingly intimidating. There was something about her that just completely enticed her, yet she remained comfortable in her presence. It was the strangest, and most exciting, juxtaposition that Trixie had ever encountered.

“You’re both in. Welcome to Club Katya.” She announced.

“I can’t believe I’m a fucking burlesque dancer!” A squeal immediately flowed from Adore’s lips at the declaration.

“You both gave me something that wasn’t your average, run-of-the-mill cabaret performer,” Katya prodded on, her blue hues now finding Trixie’s, whose own eyes were widened from shock, mouth agape. “Catching flies, are we?”

“Sorry, I just…” Trixie shook her head, still processing what had just happened. She knew that she could get used to performing burlesque on stage, and this was the little push that could get her to that level of confidence. “Thank you.”

“You earned it,” Katya handed them both a stapled set of documents that involved their hours, requirements, and entitlements. Even just by scanning through the pages quickly, Trixie could see that this woman was open to giving her dancers anything that they needed. “I’ll give you both some time to get changed and then I’ll take some measurements for costumes.”

“Katya, can I speak to you quickly?” Trixie requested.

She complied with a nod, giving a quick ‘see you soon’ to Adore who scampered back towards the dressing rooms. 

“My shift at the diner starts in a couple of hours, but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to have some lunch first?” It wasn’t until now that Trixie realised her fingertips were nervously folding and re-folding the corner of her contract.

The question hung in the air a little longer than she would have liked. Her anxiety today was not having it. Was it too soon to even ask to see Katya outside of work hours, despite the past couple of nights. 

“We can invite the other girls as well,” She said abruptly, trying to save herself from embarrassment. “Treat it like a bonding session with us newbies, y’know?”

“I love that idea, Trix.” Her smile glimmered once more, causing a grin to appear on Trixie’s own lips.

* * *

“Thank you, I promise I’ll be done in 30 minutes.” Trixie murmured as her boss, who everyone nicknamed ‘Milk’, set down a plate with a veggie burger and fries. She had already been sipping her way through a chocolate milkshake which was half empty by now.

As everyone’s meals filtered out quickly, and they began eating, Trixie idly munched on a French fry. 

“DeLa, how’s Rosie?” It wasn’t even as if she was making small-talk. She had genuinely enjoyed babysitting DeLa’s child, especially considering she was so vibrant and full of energy. 

“She’s good!” The pin-up style woman beamed as much as possible with a mouth half-full of food. “She keeps asking about you. Says she misses Barbie.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Trixie swore she saw Violet snicker, whilst she aimlessly dug through her salad with a fork. Truthfully, Violet hadn’t spoken much at all today – just a few comments here and there.

“That’s really sweet. She’s really somethin’, DeLa.” Trixie noted, taking a long sip of her beverage. 

“Do you want kids, Trixie?” Kim piped up.

…and there was that familiar blush again. Considering her _extremely_ recent breakup, the idea of even talking about such a thing seemed strange. Truthfully, Trixie had always been family oriented, even when her parents weren’t as such with her. Her mother always did her best to make ends meet, but that still couldn’t fix the fact that she came from such a broken home. It was nice to be able to think that one day she could have children of her own, and somehow seal all the cracks caused in her own childhood. Right now, it’s like everything was hanging together with sticky-tape, but she was desperate for super glue. 

“I…yeah.” Her tone was lower than usual, as a sad smile appeared on her features. She was drawn from her own thoughts by Katya’s hand on her thigh, obviously meant for comfort, despite taunting a whole other range of emotions inside of Trixie. “Although, I don’t see that happening any time soon. Josh and I broke up.” Her voice was almost completely emotionless.

“A long-distance relationship that didn’t work? Shocker.” Violet’s attitude was finally back in the game. “Besides, there are plenty of men who come to the club with a hard on, just begging to take one of us home.”

“After what happened with Richard, I’d rather you not promote that kind of behaviour, Violet.” Katya interjected, arching her brow. The mention of the man’s name caused Violet to choke on her mouthful momentarily, swishing it down with some water.

“Richard? What happened?” Violet finally mustered.

“Trixie had her drink spiked a few days ago,” Katya replied almost immediately. The tension around the table had abruptly shifted, and Trixie had never felt more out of place. She didn’t like being a damsel in distress; that wasn’t her shtick. “So, ladies, if you want anything, you go directly to Craig or get one of the waiters to serve you.”

“She should have never taken a drink from a guy whose nickname is ‘Dick’.” Pearl snorted, her black coffee warming the palms of her hands. 

Violet was completely silent again, maybe even more so than before. Trixie wondered whether or not this woman had a past with drink spiking or an overall history with drugs – maybe that’s why this conversation was leading her so astray. 

“The point is, you’re single now Trixie. You can roam free.” DeLa giggled.

Trixie swore she felt Katya’s grip on her tighten at that comment. Part of her desperately wished that the fabric of her work uniform wasn’t separating her from having potential skin-on-skin contact.

“I came to LA to focus on my career, not sleep around.” Trixie had picked up a number of different fries at this point, not even bothered about eating anymore. 

“Why compromise one for the other, you can do both?” Adore had been consuming her lunch the whole time, finally deciding to contribute to the conversation. 

Trixie quickly stole a glance at her phone, the time reading on the hour…meaning that she should have been starting her shift. It was the perfect decoy to make her way out of this conversation. She reached into her wallet, her hand grazing Katya’s underneath the table. Sifting out some money to pay for her meal, she placed it in the centre.

“If y’all don’t tip, I’m quitting the club.” She joked, her accent coming on thick.

* * *

“God dammit, Violet. Do not act like you didn’t sell those drugs to Richard that same fucking night.” Katya’s tone was biting in a way that Trixie had never heard before.

A few days of rehearsal had passed since Trixie had been cast in the show. It was now Thursday night, after a performance, and thankfully everyone else had cleared out…except for Violet and Katya.

There was a loud thump that echoed down the hallway where she stood, almost like a fist hitting a table in protest. 

“How many times have I told you that I don’t give a shit if you sell, but you, under no circumstances, sell to my patrons, on my premises.” 

It was in that very moment that Trixie knew that she wasn’t meant to be there despite having to pick up her costumes. If she walked quietly enough, she knew should could make a beeline for the side door and exit without anyone knowing.

“Katya, I’m sorry.” That was the first time she’d ever heard Violet apologise. “I didn’t realise he’d use it on anyone but himself, let alone one of us!” Her tone had raised again.

“I have no other choice than to terminate your contract.”

“No, no, you can’t.” The raven-haired beauty sounded broken, even from the next room. Trixie wanted to tear herself away, but strangely, all of this involved her. The other night had deeply affected her, and it wasn’t as if she was giving Violet a free pass for selling Richard roofies…but she knew how much her burlesque career meant to her. “Please. I’ll stop, I swear.”

“Jesus Christ,” Trixie mumbled to herself, a grimace surfacing. If she was going to interrupt their heated discussion, it would have to be now. Before she could even think about what she was going to say, she marched her way up to the door, pushing it ajar even more with a faint knock against the dark wood.

Trixie now had two pairs of eyes on her, Violet’s were abnormally teary, which was even more consolation as to why interjecting in this very moment was crucial. 

“Please don’t fire her, Katya.” 

“She put someone I care about in danger. She put another employee in danger.” It was obvious that Katya was beyond flustered. Her cheeks flushed red from exasperation. 

“But I was okay, I was safe at the end of the night,” Trixie reasoned, slowly and cautiously making her way closer to the two of them. Violet had now understandably crumbled into the chair in front of the closest vanity. “If she said she didn’t know he’d use them on us, then you have to trust her.”

There was a beat of silence amongst the confusion in the air.

“You know how hard it is to make money in this city, no matter how lucrative the scheme is,” Trixie’s tone was softening as much as possible, melting into the soundwaves within Katya’s reach. “She wants to be here so badly...”

“I’ve worked so hard for this,” Violet’s voice cracked amongst erratic breathing. “The only reason I sell on the side is so that I can actually afford these costumes, Katya, you know that.” She gave one final plea.

“I’ll think about it. Violet, you have the day off tomorrow. Space from the club is a good idea at the moment.”

The other woman didn’t protest. Instead, she gave a single nod, picking up her handbag and mouthing a ‘thank you’ at Trixie on her way out. 

“You’re here for your costume, I’m assuming.” The older of the two refused to look at the younger one.

“Yes.” It was all Trixie could reply with, hoping that her say would topple Katya’s deliberation in the matter.

Uncharacteristically, the Russian kicked off her stiletto heels and pulled a number of pieces from the clothing rack beside them, hoisting them into garment carrying bags. Trixie shuffled uncomfortably in her white cowboy boots as the sound of rustling plastic quashed the silence. 

“I know it wasn’t my place to interrupt,” Trixie said, empathetically. “But I refuse to jeopardise Violet’s career like that.” As she was handed the bag, she dropped it to the floor with ease, her fingertips immediately gliding to Katya’s wrists. “Talk to me.” The taller one pleaded. 

Instead of a verbal response, Katya leaned in, wrapping her arms around Trixie’s small waist. She buried her face in the crook of Trixie’s neck, enveloping her in a full embrace. The taller blonde held her close with one hand, the other tangling in the hair at the base of her neck, gently massaging her scalp.

“Vi’s been with this place since the beginning, that’s what makes this even more difficult.” Katya murmured and Trixie did her absolute best to ignore the fact that the woman’s hot breath ignited against her skin. 

“That’s why you can’t let her go. This club wouldn’t be the same without her, Kat.”

“I hate that you’re right.” Katya groaned, and instead of pulling herself away, she just clung on to Trixie tighter.

“I’m always right, get used to it.” Trixie combed her fingers through Katya’s short, messy waves of hair, smoothing out any knots that had tangled from her performance tonight. 

She wished she could stay like this forever, in such close proximity with this woman who had helped her call LA home. If she hadn’t have stumbled across this club, there would have been an extremely high chance that Trixie would be wandering around the city like a lost puppy. She owed Katya everything that she had right now, and the fact that she didn’t want to let go from this hug was just testament to that.

“Also, let’s not forgot that you categorised me as ‘someone you care about’,” Trixie placed her cheek upon Katya’s, keeping her close. “I’m honoured.” She mused in a whisper. 

“Typical. I’m falling apart and you’re thinking about something I said that can _barely_ be considered a compliment.” She was thankful that Katya’s tone had lightened up. “Are you a Leo by any chance? Is it set in the stars that you’re a rotted bitch sometimes?”

That automatically caused Trixie to tear away with a yelp of laughter, nearly doubling over Katya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, I DID IT. I made a tumblr, come talk to me over there @iqkittygirl  
> <3


	6. Close my eyes and leap.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything she had internalised for so many years was now coming to the surface, with the only person she felt truly comfortable with. Sure, the fact that they were in DeLa’s kitchen was a little strange, but the location didn’t matter. She hadn’t even told her mother everything that happened, purely because she couldn’t. Would she even believe her? 
> 
> Before she could stop herself, she was sobbing, and Katya was pulling her as close as possible, pressing a gentle kiss to Trixie’s forehead.
> 
> “Cry, Trix. It’s okay to cry.” Katya urged, wrapping her arms comfortably around the other woman’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of child abuse. I don't go into detail but it's definitely inferred, so be wary of that.
> 
> Come and join me on Tumblr: @iqkittygirl

“I’m sorry ma’am, but your card was declined.” The cashier handed over the rectangular piece of plastic that managed to cause Trixie so much stress. Her eyes scanned over paper bags that were now splayed on the floor around her feet, mentally deciding which things were necessities, and which she could do without. She ruffled through them, taking out the packet of cookies, and the four-pack of red bull, handing both items to the young man behind the counter. 

“I’ll do without these two, and then can you run the card again?” Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. It was no secret that getting your card declined was humiliating, especially with a long line of fellow customers behind you.

The two items were subtracted from the total, and the piece of plastic was inserted into the machine, this time with one beep. Success. Trixie let out a sigh of relief as she signed her name on the electronic pad and was handed her receipt. She gave a quick thank you to the cashier, before hauling up her bags.

Her bank account now had a hefty blow to it after purchasing her assigned costumes to work at the club. It was a plus that they were tax deductable, however it was nowhere near that time of the year.

She could completely sympathise with Violet’s side-job, despite the situation that it got her into. This lifestyle was an expensive one, but the more she powered through her rehearsals, the more she fell in love with dancing on stage. For the meantime, she still needed to keep her job at the diner. Those long days and nights had already begun showing on her complexion; the bags under her eyes slightly purpling and her blonde curls frizzing slightly more every day.

She had one day a week off; twenty-four hours which she dedicated to stocking up on supplies, cleaning her makeup brushes and steaming her costumes for the next five or so days. It was the mundane tasks that manage to ground her.

After a short walk to her apartment from the store, she began unloading her groceries, giving them a home in her fridge and cupboards. She was quickly cut short by the buzzing in her pocket. Lifting her cell phone from her Daisy Duke shorts, she noticed DeLa’s name flashing across the screen. 

“Hey, you.” Trixie answered, resting the phone between her ear and shoulder as she continued piling her perishables into the refrigerator. 

“Hey Trixie pixie,” DeLa greeted her, the grin evident in her tone. This was a woman that was rarely rattled by anything – a lot of the girls at the club described her as ‘terminally delightful’, which couldn’t be more accurate. “I was wondering if you could babysit Rosie tonight? I would call our normal sitter, but she keeps asking for you.”

Trixie wanted nothing more than to make a little extra money. It didn’t bother her that this was her only night off. She needed the cash more than she needed rest, but then her evening’s plans dawned on her.

“I would love to, but I was meant to have Katya over tonight…”

“She can come too. I don’t mind.” In the background of the conversation, she could hear what she assumed to be Rosie jumping up and down, incessantly asking ‘did she say yes, did she say yes’. 

“That’s so kind of you, DeLa, I’ll let her know.” Trixie couldn’t suppress her own smile any longer. 

“See you tonight.”

* * *

“I left some money on the counter so you can order pizza.” DeLa grabbed her handbag, quickly hooking it over her shoulder before taking Dustin’s hand and locking their fingers together. It was a sight that left a pang in Trixie’s chest. Yes, technically she had just gotten out of a relationship, but that didn’t stop the current yearning that she felt.

“Thanks, DeLa. You two have a good night, don’t worry about the time, okay?” She grinned, leaning in to give her friend a kiss on the cheek. “…and it was lovely to meet you, Dustin –”

“Barbie, come on!” Rosie whined from the hallway before taking Trixie’s hand and attempting to drag her away. She waited until the two had walked out the door before locking it behind them, finally letting Rosie lead her to the living room.

“Mommy got me new toys.” The small girl rushed to pick up her Sky Dancers, still sitting comfortably on their platforms before she pulled the string and it went flying in the air, crashing down to the ground before Rosie could catch it. Trixie couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, reminding her of the pure happiness she hoped to experience in her own childhood.

* * *

Rosie sat comfortably on Trixie’s lap, as she gave the child time to scan over the letters on the small stand in front of them, seeing if she could string any words together at all. It was obvious that DeLa was raising an intelligent child for her young age.

“Nothing.” Rosie huffed, crossing her arms over her chest in frustration. 

Trixie leaned over, readjusting the letters amongst the rest of the jumble, popping them on to the board that separated her and Katya. “Do you know what that means?”

Rosie simply shook her head in reply.

“It’s when you’re not strong enough to do something.” Trixie explained simply, as Rosie took a bite of her pizza. Trixie leaned over, snatching the child’s discarded pieces of pineapple from the plate, popping them in her mouth happily.

“It doesn’t just mean that.” Katya interjected and Trixie raised her brow as she scribbled down her new score on the piece of paper beside them.

“Oh, do enlighten us.” The younger blonde mused, stealing the discarded crust of Rosie’s pizza that was rid of any ham pieces.

“It’s also a feeling, as well as a physicality.” Katya nodded, her eyes fixated on her letters in front of her, obviously trying to come up with a word that seemed fitting. “For example, when you _like_ someone, they can make you feel weak at the knees.” Her blueish green hues flickered to Trixie’s face, who swallowed her mouthful of pizza harshly, as Rosie looked perplexed. “Weakness isn’t a bad thing. Sometimes it’s a very, very good thing.”

“Do you know what it’s like to have a crush on anyone, Rosie?” Trixie abruptly changed the subject in a feeble attempt to stop herself from blushing any deeper.

“I asked a boy in my pre-school class if he wanted to marry me.” She piped up, bouncing slightly before shrugging. “He said yes but Mommy told me I’m too little.”

“Ooooh,” Trixie cooed, tickling Rosie’s sides. “Did he give you butterflies? Does Rosie have a crush?” The questions and the gesture caused the small child to yelp, shifting off of Trixie’s lap. 

“I do not!” She whined, stamping her foot against the rug, still smiling. 

“It’s okay Rosie, I have a crush too.” Katya tried to diffuse the situation, knowing full well that spiking this little girl’s energy right before bed wasn’t a good idea at all.

“You do?” Trixie and the young girl questioned together in almost perfect unison.

Instead of answering the question, Katya started building another word on the cardboard. “Double word score, so that’s 24.” The blunt haired blonde ushered towards the scorecard by pointing with her index finger. 

Trixie groaned internally, writing it down. It was blatantly obvious that Katya had won the game from the moment they even started playing. There were even a couple of instances where Trixie had to look up words that Katya had laid down. Nonetheless, the game proved to be a good learning experience from Rosie. Unfortunately, the night sky had fallen to a tranquil dark colour beyond the window, which only indicated one thing. 

“It’s getting late,” Trixie noted, turning her attention to the child who had now picked up a plush teddy-bear from the couch. “C’mon princess, bedtime.”

By the looks of it, Scrabble had tuckered the little girl out, and Trixie couldn’t have been more thankful. She playfully hoisted Rosie up, dangling her over her shoulder as the girl screamed in good-natured protest. 

“I’ll clean this up while you’re gone.” Katya murmured, referring to the mess of alphabet pieces and pizza scraps that littered the rug. 

Trixie mouthed a sweet ‘thank you’ in reply before making her way upstairs. “Go on, brush your teeth and then I’ll read you a story.” As she set Rosie down on the hardwood floors, her eager footsteps echoed throughout the whole home.

* * *

“Is that the last piece?” Trixie whimpered, a slight slump in her posture as Katya sat on the kitchen counter enjoying what was left of the pizza.

Rosie’s bedtime routine had taken much longer than she imagined. The girl was so detail oriented that Trixie couldn’t get away with skipping any pages of the picture book. If she did, Rosie would call her out and make her start again. Nearly an hour later, she was finally tucked under the covers, surrendering to her slumber.

“It is.” Katya took another bite before handing the vegetarian slice out to her fellow blonde.

Padding her way over to her, Trixie took it willingly before helping herself to a mouthful. As much as she loved seeing Katya in her work clothes, with her hair perfectly quaffed and her waist cinched, there was something even more beautiful witnessing her in a simple pair of black jeans and a v-neck. 

She comfortably positioned herself between the Katya’s legs, her hips gently grazing the marble countertop. “I’m sorry for changing our plans last minute,” She took another bite before handing the pizza back to Katya, as a peace offering. It was also best to skip on the details of how she was in urgent need of extra money. She never liked asking for anything – she always knew it was just best to get it herself, which was definitely her stubbornness shining through.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Katya assured her, liking the newfound height difference with her sitting on the counter. 

Trixie looked up at her from under her long lashes, studying her features. Part of her prayed that the woman before her wouldn’t notice the newfound bags under her eyes, and tired skin. Yes, she had a little bit of makeup on, but it definitely wasn’t enough to cover it all. 

“You’re so good with Rosie.” Katya’s compliment caused Trixie to smirk, before she humbly shook her head, resting her forehead against the now taller blonde’s chin. 

“I just don’t want anyone to have the childhood I did, Katya…I can’t help but care.”

Trixie’s hands found Katya’s thighs, desperate for them to stay like this for as long as possible. It was no secret that she clung on to her tumultuous upbringing, but maybe it was time to stop blaming it for everything. She was a grown woman now; an adult who was capable of making her own choices. The scarring was always going to be there, but she could cover it up easier now.

“There was a rumor that went around high school about me being a lesbian,” She finally felt ready to tell Katya her story, in hopes that it would set her free from now on. “Well, I made out with a girl, so the rumor happened to be true…but people found out. When you’re a teenager, you don’t think about any sexualities other than gay or straight.” Trixie tried her best to distract herself, focusing on the fabric of Katya’s jeans underneath her fingertips as she began grazing slow circles. 

“My parents found out. My mother was alright with it – I confided in her and told her I liked both men and women, but then my step-father found out.” It was then that her voice broke, the lump rising in her throat as the urge to cry crept in. 

“He used to pin me down, and hit me…used to say he was trying to beat the gay out of me since I couldn’t pray it away.” The memories became so vivid in her mind, and the tears began to break through, flowing freely. “He made me do things with him that I didn’t want to do.”

Everything she had internalised for so many years was now coming to the surface, with the only person she felt truly comfortable with. Sure, the fact that they were in DeLa’s kitchen was a little strange, but the location didn’t matter. She hadn’t even told her mother everything that happened, purely because she couldn’t. Would she even believe her? 

Before she could stop herself, she was sobbing, and Katya was pulling her as close as possible, pressing a gentle kiss to Trixie’s forehead.

“Cry, Trix. It’s okay to cry.” Katya urged, wrapping her arms comfortably around the other woman’s neck.

“I forced myself to fall in love with Josh, because I couldn’t deal with the abuse anymore. It shut up the rumors, and it fucking sucked…but it hurt less than the abuse.”

They stayed there in silence for a few long minutes, Trixie securely resting in Katya’s arms. Her breathing and tears began to come to a halt as she focused on the rhythm of her friend’s heartbeat. 

The two were broken up by the sound keys rattling into the lock of the front door, and gentle murmurs of DeLa and her husband. Trixie pulled back reluctantly, fixing her makeup quickly before Katya jumped down from the counter. She looked less like a Barbie doll now, especially with her smudged makeup. They walked around the corner, meeting the couple in the hallway.

“Did you two have a good night?” Katya smiled at the pair who looked completely smitten.

“It was lovely. Thank you, you two.” The dark-haired woman replied with a beaming smile. “Trixie, I’ll transfer you the money in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Trixie uttered, heading towards her bag that lay lazily by the door. “I should order an Uber.”

“Don’t be stupid, I can drive you home.” Katya chimed in insistently. In all honestly, she didn’t want to be stuck in the backseat of a car with a driver trying to make conversation right now. Trixie just gave her a nod before opening up the door as quietly as possible, to not wake Rosie upstairs. 

“Goodnight you guys.” She blew DeLa and Dustin a kiss, as Katya followed her exit behind her.

She was thankful for the brief walk to the car – the colder air shocking her senses for a moment. Climbing into the passenger’s seat, she popped her handbag down by her feet as the blonde beside her reversed out of the driveway. Katya had one hand on the wheel, the other resting comfortably on her right thigh. 

Trixie leaned over, intertwining their fingers on the console separating the two car seats. A light crackle of music seeped through the speakers of the vehicle, but she didn’t bother to note the songs. She was content just feeling connected to Katya in some way.

* * *

“Can someone tell me how to get out of latex?” Trixie groaned, struggling to reach for the slender zipper in the middle of her back.

Most of the girls had already finished their numbers and headed home, with Pearl and Kim in the process of packing up their stations. They were in a conversation of their own, almost completely disregarding Trixie’s request for assistance.

“Violet and I have never been stable.” Pearl complained, shoving her evening’s costumes into a large tote bag plastered with different fabric patches. 

“You need to make it clear that you want to be more than just friends with benefits then.” Kim noted, taking a swig from her water bottle.

Trixie selfishly cleared her throat, bringing their discussion to a halt.

“Trixie, I’m really sorry but this is an emergency.” Kim justified as the two gave her a quick ‘goodbye’ on their way out of the dressing room.

She huffed as she slumped exhaustedly in the makeup chair, reaching up into her hair to release some of the pins from her faux-bob hairstyle that she’d created. The latex squeaked as she stretched her arms, her fingertips now crawling their way to the back of her scalp. Every bobby-pin she took out exhibited a small sense of relief.

Admittedly, this outfit made her look nothing like what she was used to; cherry lips, a red and white latex body suit with fake buttons and a bow at her collar. Regardless, it seemed to get plenty of cheers tonight during her number. 

“You’re still in costume?” Katya quipped, walking through the doorway and stopping behind Trixie’s chair – their eyes meeting in the mirror’s reflection. 

“I don’t know how to get it off. It feels like a second skin.” Trixie explained, finally pulling the last few pins from the back of her hair, so that her curls perfectly cascaded over her shoulders now.

“Did you not oil yourself when you got into it?” 

Trixie shook her head in response, completely oblivious about these kinds of costumes. She’d only ever performed in her own clothes which were hardly made out of anything other than cotton or synthetic thread. 

“I hope you like this outfit then, because you’ll be wearing it for the rest of your life.” Katya dabbled in her harsher Russian accent, causing Trixie to be stuck between a groan, and a laugh. “Stand up, krasotka.” 

Trixie did as she was instructed, kicking off her high heels that were causing an ache in the balls of her feet. “Bossy.” Trixie mumbled under her breath playfully.

The next act caught her entirely by surprise. Katya retaliated, taking her her by the waist, and forcefully spinning her around so that her hips collided with the edge of the vanity. Before Trixie could even catch her breath, she was leaning over the bench, attempting to grasp the flat surface.

She would be lying to herself if she hadn’t thought of that action being manoeuvred on her prior to tonight, by Katya. Only, in her fantasies, clothes were optional. Everything she felt towards this woman had been increasing tenfold as of late, and this situation wasn’t helping whatsoever.

Katya pulled down the zipper on Trixie’s garment painfully slowly, causing the Midwestern blonde to swallow harshly. Before she could stand up straight, Katya’s fingertips found the bare skin of her back, permeating a few drops of oil underneath the latex. Trixie wanted to speak – wanted to fill the silence but she couldn’t find the words to verbalise what she was feeling. 

She peered up at the reflection in the mirror, noticing Katya’s eyes growing darker as her fingertips trailed around her waist and around to her stomach. The aching in Trixie’s body automatically caused her hips to jut back against Katya’s without prevail. The action muffled a groan from Trixie’s lips.

Once her skin had been sufficiently slicked as much as possible, Katya stepped back. Trixie refrained from whimpering at the loss of connection between the two of them. 

“I need a cigarette.” Katya nodded, as she wiped her hands off on a nearby makeup wipe before running her fingers through her blunt haircut, mussing her waves slightly.

“Yeah.” Was all Trixie could manage, clearly flustered.

She wanted to run after her boss as she left the room. She craved grasping her hand, and pulling her into a kiss. She was desperate for it. Yet her feet kept her planted on the ground. Slowly, she began to peel her costume from her, replacing it with her familiar denim short-shorts, and a baby pink hoodie. Slipping into a pair of Converse, she packed up her bag, and exited the room, out to the club’s side door.

“I think the purpose of smoking is to actually light your cigarette.” Trixie mused, leaning over to take Katya’s lighter from her hand. She brought it close, shielding the breeze from blowing it out. “Inhale.” She instructed as she ignited the end of a cigarette. It crackled barely audibly above the echo of Los Angeles traffic. She clipped the gas shut, slotting the small device back into Katya’s palm.

“How did I do tonight?” Trixie was completely fishing for a compliment, and truthfully, the only feedback she wanted from her performances was from the woman standing before her.

“You know how you did, Trix.” Katya breathed out a long stream of smoke upwards, avoiding her employee courteously, as she always did. 

“Tell me.” 

“You had the audience eating out of the palm of your hand.” Katya flicked the cigarette between her fingertips slightly, the ash fleeting to the concrete beneath them.

“I don’t care about them. I want to hear what _you_ thought.” Trixie’s teeth anxiously chewed the inside of her cheek.

It took a moment for Katya to answer, as their eyes searched one another’s. Trixie was adamant to get this answer. The tension between them ran higher than ever tonight and she couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but she wasn’t complaining by any means.

“You were…incomparable.” There was a recognisable half-smiled smirk lingering on the Russians lips, before she brought the cigarette back to her mouth for an inhale. 

“Shotgun me.” Trixie directed before she could even think. Her request caused a cough from her counterpart.

“But you don’t smoke?” Katya arched her brow.

“I don’t. Doesn’t mean I haven’t.” 

Katya took another long drag, holding it in her lungs as she leaned in. Her free fingertips pressed delicately against Trixie’s jawline, pulling her close – barely a couple of inches between them. Trixie parted her lips, just enough to accept the woman’s exhale as she breathed a steady stream of passive smoke into her mouth. 

‘ _Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her,_ ’ The thought ran through Trixie’s mind repeatedly. All she had to do was lean in slightly further. 

But she didn’t. She pulled away; the leftover smoke exiting through her nostrils as she hummed happily. What if Katya didn’t want to kiss her? She’d inferred that she was interested in someone the night before, and Trixie couldn’t help but assume that maybe it wasn’t her now. The onus was on Katya as much as it was on Trixie to follow through.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Trixie Mattel.” Katya shook her head, resting back against the brick wall of the club. 

Trixie hitched her bag higher up on her shoulder, offering the woman a saccharine, innocent smile. “You can bet on it.” She teased, before making her way down the alleyway towards the parking lot. She glanced back, offering her a wink. “G’night Katya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE DON'T BE PISSED AT ME FOR BEING A TEASE.


	7. Come what may.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie had been hoping all day that this wouldn’t come up, especially in front of their boss. Katya stood up a little straighter at the comment and she noticed it immediately. 
> 
> “Trixie, a word in my office. Now.” The simple fact that Katya didn’t use her newfound nickname caused her heart to sink. As the Russian left the room, she watched the fringe from her sheer black dress flow in synchronisation with the sway of her hips. By her tone, she was about to be reprimanded for something, and yet all she could fixate on was Katya’s body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Homophobic slurs, but not used in a homophobic context.
> 
> I. Have. Writer's. Block. Like, really badly. Shoutout to marsbarx (@jushvixen on tumblr) for being an actual angel and getting me through it.

“Do I have to?” Trixie groaned, her lips perching themselves comfortably against the half-full wine glass in her hand. She sat cross legged of the floor of her apartment, surrounded by all of the other dancers from the club. Katya’s absence was only heightened by the amount of alcohol she’d consumed prior to this stupid party game of ‘spin the bottle’. 

After tonight’s show, she’d invited all the girls back to her own place, purely just because she needed a distraction. Yesterday’s events in the back alley had been replaying in her mind over and over again, pushing her to the brink of insanity. Her thoughts were a constant state of ‘what ifs’ with her confliction revolving around not entirely following through, versus making Katya beg for her attention. 

“Trixie, you gotta!” Kim leaned over, shoving the empty Corona bottle across the floor. “Everyone else has.”

“This is so incestuous.” DeLa laughed, a bottle of cheap champagne sitting comfortably between her thighs as she outstretched on the ground. 

“Look, just because you’re married…” Pearl rolled her eyes.

“I’ve been kissing people on the cheek. That’s scandalous enough.” DeLa was quick to retort.

Trixie was thankful for all of these women, despite their ridiculous antics. Throughout her childhood, she didn’t exactly have a lot of friends. They were quickly making up for lost time, only in this instance, she didn’t have to pretend to be someone else. She felt accepted.

“I’ve decided I’m married too.” Trixie chimed in again, taking another sip from her beverage of choice. 

“Just because Katya’s not here doesn’t mean you get to avoid this game.” Violet drawled, which was followed by harrowing laughter from the rest of the girls.

Her interest in her boss was apparently becoming obvious to everyone else. Trixie knew she’d have to work harder on keeping it under-wraps. After all, it wasn’t exactly very professional. The last thing she wanted was a reputation that was dependent upon fucking her way into a job. 

“No, guys, I really am married.” Trixie stifled a laugh before making the sign of the cross with her right hand. “To Jesus. We’re really happy together.” She broke her ‘holier than thou’ character on the spot, bursting into a fit of laughter.

In all honesty, she’d confided in her faith whilst growing up, but ever since she was forced to ‘pray the gay away’ night after night, her beliefs started slipping. 

“Shut up, just spin the bottle.” Pearl was smiling for once.

“I hope you know this is peer pressure. Hi, I’m being bullied.” Trixie reluctantly bent forward, grasping the bottle with her free hand and giving it a quick turn. It took a few withdrawn seconds for the glass to come to a halt, settling upon the statuesque, raven haired one in the group.

Trixie’s stomach began to churn immediately. Truthfully, she enjoyed the girl’s company, but after having walked in on a conversation about Pearl wanting something more from Violet, she couldn’t help but feel guilty. But this was just a game, right? 

“Let’s get this over with, dyke.” Violet was so blasé. 

“Fine.” She set her wine glass down before crawling over to the center of the circle where she was met halfway.

There were so many thoughts swimming through her mind; immense amounts of remorse about Pearl, but also the fact that all she wanted was to make out with Katya. Sure, everyone had basically made out with each other in this room, despite Trixie avoiding it for as long as possible, and of course DeLa who had a valid reason. 

She brushed her voluminous curls away from her shoulders; lip gloss, long hair and a kiss were never a good a good combination at the best of times. Violet’s hands found Trixie’s jawline as the space between them closed in. The moment their lips met, the girl’s around them roared in giddy cheers, even surprisingly enough from Pearl. Her lips tasted of vodka and cigarettes – the latter reminding her only of a certain blonde Russian. Her eyes fluttered closed, leaning into the affection and almost forgetting who she was kissing. Their mouths parted slightly, just enough for the other girl’s tongue to barely graze Trixie’s lower lip. The alcohol spurred her on – made her crave more, but thankfully Violet pulled away at just the right moment.

Trixie’s eyelids fluttered open to see Vi fixing her own dark purple lipstick around the side of her mouth. She was in a haze of desire and the one woman she wanted wasn’t around. It was pure torture.

“That was hot as fuck.” Adore commented, as Trixie made her way back to her designated spot in the circle.

Her frustration only increased, and she had absolutely no doubt that she’d be making her way through the rest of the bottle of red wine beside her before the evening was over.

* * *

Trixie lay back against the pillows of her bed, hiccupping as she watched the street lights outside filter through her window and dance along the ceiling. A crash of glassware in her kitchen caused her to stir, shakily leaning up and resting her weight back on her elbows. Violet’s laugh echoed throughout the small apartment, mixed with profanities.

“Are you – oops.” Trixie’s question about the girl’s wellbeing stopped in her tracks as she noticed Violet surrendered on the floor with broken and empty bottles littered around her. “Oh no!” The blonde squealed, bursting into a woozy fit of laughter.

Violet had offered to stay back and help tidy up after the gathering. Regardless, neither of them were capable of driving her home, and they were in the midst of financial struggles, so a cab was out of the question. It was much easier on Trixie’s conscience to just let her stay over for the night.

“Thank you for asking if I’m okay, you cunt.” They were both slurring their words, Trixie more than her friend.

She scrambled against the mattress, before running over to salvage Violet from hurting herself. They weren’t in a state to be tidying up; in fact, they really were doing more harm than good. That’s exactly why Trixie helped her up, carefully leading her back to the bed. 

“Are you okay?” She finally managed to get the words out.

“The money maker is fine, don’t worry.” Violet mused.

“I can clean up tomorrow.” Trixie brushed it off nonchalantly before the clock on her nightstand caught her eye, reading 1:03am. “Nope. Today. Later.” 

Violet collapsed right beside her, her makeup tainting Trixie’s pillow somewhat. For the most part, Trixie was a happy drunk and tonight was no exception. But towards the end of any evening’s festivities, her emotions would creep in when they were needed the least.

“Vi, can I ask you something?”

The question got a grunt of approval from the woman beside her, who now had her eyes closed. Maybe she felt a little guilty about keeping this girl awake, but it was impossible to shut Trixie up when she had alcohol in her system.

“Is it really that obvious that I have a thing for Katya?” Trixie had turned completely to face Violet, now leaning up and resting her palm against her cheek. 

“You eye-fuck her every time she’s in the room. It’s obvious, bitch.” Violet mumbled, keeping her answer short and concise – she obviously wanted to get some sleep…but apparently, she wasn’t going to get any with the way that Trixie was carrying on.

“I do not!” Hiccup. “I just – I’ve never met anyone like her before. I’m screwed. I’m in deep.” A sense of relief washed over her as she not only admitted it to Violet, but also to herself. “Even when I was with Josh, I never felt like this. I never had butterflies or anything. Granted, I’m pretty sure that I’m gay. I don’t even think I’m attracted to men at all, Vi. I think I’m going to have a panic attack…it’s really hot in here. I should open the wind–”

Before she could even finish the sentence, she felt Violet’s lips on hers again, cutting her off. It felt good. Familiar. It was slightly rougher than the kiss before, almost a little more desperate. She felt powerless under her touch – a submission that only reminded her of Katya yet again. But she couldn’t understand why her confession managed to incite such a response. She pulled back, noticing a faint hint of pink lipstick merging with Violet’s darker one. It was a pet peeve of hers, but she was in no state to touch it up; the room was dark enough anyway. 

“It’s the only way I could get you to shut up.” The darker haired one reasoned with her.

“Oh.” Trixie was flustered. She wanted to lean back in for another kiss, just for the pure sensation of it all. But after what she’d just said, it wouldn’t make sense to do so.

* * *

“Are the thorns poking into you?” Trixie tried to adjust the crown on Adore’s head, beginning to pin it into place. This was one of her favourite costumes of the whole cast; a pleather negligée that she accessorised with black rosary beads and perfectly ripped fishnets. It mimicked Adore’s alternative style perfectly.

The blue-haired beauty shook her head in response, touching up her blood red lipstick to finish off the outfit. 

“Please tell me you two fucked last night.” Adore said as Violet waltzed over, setting down her things, officially resuming her run in the show again after her time off. What Trixie had said was true; it wouldn’t be the same without her here.

The statement alone caused a snort-laugh to exit Trixie’s lips. “We both passed out after everyone left.” She nodded over to the girl beside her, who caught wind of her fabricated statement.

“I offered to help clean up the apartment, not clean _her_ up, you whore.” Violet chimed in, pelting a rolled-up pair of stockings her way.

The electricity in the dressing room was purely fire tonight. Last night’s bonding session had gone better than Trixie could have ever imagined. It just seemed to add another facet to her friendship with all of these women. Moving away from home gave her the ability to finally stand on her own two feet, but it also helped her to find the family that she felt as though she never had…until now. 

“You girls are rowdy tonight.” Katya flounced in with a few more costumes draped over her arms, beginning to hang them up on a nearby rack.

“You missed out on a lot last night,” DeLa noted. “Some girls are still getting dealing with a hangover…Pearl.” Everyone snickered.

“Unfortunately, someone has to stay back and run this place.” Katya mused.

“They basically all had one big orgy.” DeLa added as she began lacing her own corset. 

“Um, excuse me,” Trixie wrapped her arms around Adore’s neck, leaning down to hug her from behind. Her eyes focussed on her co-worker as she replied. “Spin the bottle is barely even considered sexual in any way.”

“That’s a lie,” Adore was smirking now, as she winged out her eyeliner. “With the way that you and Violet made out, I was waiting to watch a real-life porno.”

Trixie had been hoping all day that this wouldn’t come up, especially in front of their boss. Katya stood up a little straighter at the comment and she noticed it immediately. 

“Trixie, a word in my office. Now.” The simple fact that Katya didn’t use her newfound nickname caused her heart to sink. As the Russian left the room, she watched the fringe from her sheer black dress flow in synchronisation with the sway of her hips. By her tone, she was about to be reprimanded for something, and yet all she could fixate on was Katya’s body. 

The sudden change in mood seemed to shut the girls up well enough. Everyone knew that being called into the boss’ office was never a good sign – it was just like in high school when someone got called to see the principal. 

Despite the urgency she was instructed to have, she popped a few final pins into Adore’s headpiece to secure it. The woman in the makeup chair gave her an empathetic smile which only triggered her anxiety further. She gently squeezed her friend’s shoulder before departing the dressing room.

Trixie knocked twice against the door before entering from the dark hallway. The only lights on in the room came from a lamp which illuminated Katya’s desk. The woman sitting behind it, her glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of her nose. She was highlighting something on the page, without greeting the blonde at the door.

The vision alone caused a lump in her throat. She wore a blouse that was fastened with a signature red and green bow, which was perfectly tucked into a pair of high waisted stage shorts. Trixie refused to notice the way the material rode up her stocking clad thighs as she sat down.

She could feel her heart racing. There was something so vulnerable about the fact that Katya looked as though she could kill someone with so much as a look, and Trixie stood there in a pastel pink corset and matching leather jacket. They had never looked more opposite.

“Shut the door.” 

She did as she was instructed. Katya collected together the stapled pile of papers, slamming them down on the corner of the desk closet to Trixie. She immediately jumped at the sound, taken aback by this woman’s suddenly extremely dominant demeanour. 

“Read that aloud for me.”

She stepped forward, the sound of her high heels slowly clacking against the floor. It wasn’t until she picked up the file that she released her hands were shaking. There were only so many symptoms of nervousness that she could contain. 

“Section 24, part A: Co-workers should refrain from intimate relations throughout the course of their employment. Management reserves the right to terminate any contracts if this clause is breached.” Trixie recited, slowly craning her head back up so that she could view Katya again.

By the feel her hitched breathing, she was sure she was going to have a coronary. Maybe a heart attack wouldn’t be so bad if it meant that she wouldn’t get fired.

The elder of the two had a sly smile plastered on her features and she took off her glasses, her teeth grazing the tip of them tauntingly. “Exactly how much fun did you have with Miss Chachki last night?”

The power play was making Trixie’s palms sweat. She rubbed her hands on the nylon fabric that desperately clung to her own thighs. She knew that she didn’t have a lot to defend – it was only a kiss (or two), but somehow the whole situation was being completely magnified. Her thought process was torn on how to explain herself, competing with the woman who was blatantly teasing her. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t find the words.

Trixie could just walk out and leave on her own terms before Katya even got rid of her, but she didn’t want to go. She was certain in the fact that she belonged here, and earned her place in the cast just as much as everyone else.

“It was spin the bottle. I didn’t sleep with her.” Trixie justified, trusting that explanation alone would be enough.

The Russian set her glasses down on the timber beside them. 

“Trixie, Trixie, Trixie…” She tutted, rolling her ‘R’s slightly. Any hint of her accent left Trixie pining after her, but not tonight. She refused to let herself slip up.

“Yes?”

“Yes, what? Use your manners.” 

Their gaze was locked, and Trixie didn’t falter for one second. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Her tone was laced with a hint of spite, just to irritate Katya even more.  
“I’ve already passed on firing one girl this week…” Her threats were apparently falling on deaf ears.

Trixie stepped around the corner of the woman’s desk so they were now entirely facing each other. She rejected any idea of Katya having the upper hand, and this sudden spurt of confidence was too tempting to take.

“Fire me. I dare you.”

Her statement was barely a whisper but it hastily wiped the smirk off Katya’s lips, and rightfully so. Leaning in, Trixie gripped the woman’s wrist tightly, but not enough to hurt her. With her right hand, she hooked a few of Katya’s platinum strands behind her ear, her lips lingering there now too. 

“Wouldn’t it have so much simpler to just admit you’re jealous that she got there first?” Her breath was hot against her skin. “Aren’t you tired of playing this game?”

Trixie skimmed her teeth against Katya’s earlobe, causing a simper from her counterpart. She could hear her boss’ breathing become laboured just like her own had done only moments ago.

These actions were things that she had been taught to suppress for years. A new city, new people and hell, new family, were all helping her accept that maybe it wasn’t so wrong to feel this way. It gave her a sense of courage that she’d never experienced before, but now that she’d tasted it, she was desperate for more. Los Angeles was truly becoming an epiphany for her sexual awakening.

She craved a reaction from Katya. Something. Anything. Other than her halted breathing, this woman was still completely composed. Her confidence crumbled – shattering in the silence of it all.

“Say something.” Trixie begged, her grip on the woman’s wrist finally releasing. 

There was nothing. 

“Please, Katya.” 

She pulled back just enough to search the other woman’s eyes for something that just wasn’t there. She looked torn – broken, almost. Trixie racked her brain; had she taken this too far? Had she been misreading all the signals? 

An abrupt knock at the door pulled them both out of their stupor. Admittedly, Trixie had never been more grateful for an intervention. She stepped away from her boss, almost to the other end of the desk, before one of the stage-hands walked in, clipboard in hand. “You’re on in 10 minutes, Trixie.”

“Thank you.” The taller blonde forced a smile as he retreated to alert the rest of the performers in the dressing room. 

Rejection was something that Trixie had become skilled in dealing with, to the point where she could completely put on a façade and act like the world wasn’t falling apart around her. Her dysfunctional family situation meant that she had no place to be herself – no matter if she was behind closed doors or not. She’d evolved into someone she didn’t recognise back then…and now putting on that same demeanour almost felt comfortable to her, in a sick and twisted way. She snapped right back into it, like a moth taking to a flame. 

“It won’t happen again.” She promised, giving Katya a half-hearted nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to yell at me in the comments or on Tumblr: @iqkittygirl


	8. With a little bit of luck, you'll give right in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mention of drugs.
> 
> Please remember these are _characters_. I don’t condone shipping the queens IRL because that’s just not my cup of tea. But here’s a chapter about some gals just being pals.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr: @iqkittygirl

Trixie could feel the individual beads of sweat tickling her cheeks. Her heart was palpitating, and her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. Her muscles ached, pulling with every step, turn and bend. She was desperate to complain, and groan, but she knew it would be futile in these circumstances. Rehearsals were always a bitch, but for some reason, todays seemed a lot more intense. 

“You missed your mark, Trixie,” Katya didn’t look up from her table full of papers once during the whole performance. 

They were all exhausted, raw from the newer numbers they were learning. Most burlesque outlets changed up their shows seasonally, but not Club Katya. That’s what put them ahead of the pack; they were constantly innovating, and formulating brand new shows. It was a blessing for the company, but a curse for the girls. 

“Do it again.” The blonde seated before the set waved her hand absentmindedly, completely disregarding the fact that Trixie looked as though she was about to pass out. 

The stage hand brought out bottles of water for them all before quickly departing back to the wing. In Trixie’s eyes, he was an angel in disguise for allowing her to catch her breath for a moment longer. The women beside her loosened up their muscles once more, quickly bopping their neck from side to side, as she took a much-needed gulp of water.

Before she could even close the cap on the bottle, the music had started again. Trixie somewhat choked, sealing it closed and throwing it off to stage left before rushing to get back in her position.

Ever since the encounter the other evening in Katya’s office, the two had been on strange terms – the tension was far too palpable to be cut with a knife…unless that knife happened to be a machete. She had retaliated in a way that not only seemed to give her the cold shoulder, but also create a much harsher line between boss and employee.

As the beat of the song progressed, Trixie forced her body into every rehearsed pose. Her movements weren’t as sharp as she wanted them to be, but she’d been running this same routine for two hours now with barely a break. 

She could feel her long blonde hair, which she’d swooped up into a high ponytail, sticking to the perspiration on her bare back. Somehow, her usual sports bra and leggings combination was providing far too much coverage for her liking. The air-conditioning in the complex even seemed non-existent now. 

“Everyone can have a 20-minute break.” Katya sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest as she scanned the line-up with her eyes. “Come back in full costume, with heels,” She stared down Trixie at that moment, knowing too well the girl could quite possibly defy her again on that front. “When you get back on this stage, I want you to pair up.”

They all filtered off the stage, walking at a painfully slow pace to the dressing room. A few collapsed upon the couch, the others taking a seat at their assigned stations. Trixie wanted to melt into her makeup chair completely – but the thought of having to return to the stage in under half an hour stopped her from doing her. Her muscles had to stay warmed-up, despite how much they burned.

“Is it just me or is Katya being an extreme bitch lately?” Pearl questioned almost rhetorically over the sound of everyone’s pained grunts. 

Trixie kicked off her sneakers, expertly swerving the question. Her hands went to her socks, rubbing her feet to soothe the dull ache. The thought of having to get into a pair of heels caused her to recoil slightly. Dress rehearsals were part of the gig, but learning a number and blocking it with outfits in one day was a whole other story. 

“I’ve never seen her like this.” Violet commented, towelling herself off and already beginning to get into her corset. Hell, if that woman could wear a cincher 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, Trixie was sure she would. 

“Maybe she needs to get laid.” Adore laughed, casually stripping down and rolling a pair of fishnet stockings up the length of her thigh. 

That comment alone was enough for Trixie to dissociate. She didn’t want to be in this conversation, let alone go back out there to have her ass handed to her for every missed step. Her capabilities were usually so much stronger, yet Katya was intercepting her with just a look today. 

The girl’s continued rattling on, even teasing Trixie and volunteering for her to do the job, but she wasn’t present. She had forced herself out of this situation entirely. Peeling off her leggings and sports bra, she slipped on her tights, before the rest of her outfit. The corset felt particularly strangling today. 

“Hey,” Violet’s hand on her shoulder shook her out of her own thoughts. “Need some help?” She ushered to her corset.

Trixie gave her a small nod, before turning around, pulling the hair tie from her locks, and brushing her it over her shoulder before she was laced up. 

“I have an idea.” Violet bargained. 

“Shoot.”

“Everyone has to pair up. We kind of have matching outfits, so, for aesthetic purposes…?”

Rather than shifting, Trixie glanced over to the mirror to get a view of what Violet was wearing; a black corset with corresponding lace lingerie that was embroidered with red and navy flowers. 

Hers was basically the same, only decorated with a mix of white and pink. Glancing around the room, the rest of the girls had also paired off; DeLa and Kim, Pearl and Adore. They had already begun synchronising their looks in one way of another – it was just expected that the girls had to think about every detail, especially considering Katya’s critiques today.

Once their break was coming to an end, the girls made their way out of the dressing room, beginning to filter out on to the stage. Being at the end of the pack, she heard some animated squeals from her co-workers as they hit the precipice. Finally coming into view, Trixie could see a beautiful girl with long dark hair, wearing a bejewelled bodysuit and silver thigh high boots.

“Tati!” Violet was the most excited out of them all. It was obvious that they had all met her before, except for of course, Adore.

“You bitches haven’t changed a bit.” Tatianna greeted them all with a hug. Katya sauntered up behind her, placing a hand upon the woman’s bronzed shoulder.

“Trixie, Adore…meet Tatianna,” Katya beared her dazzling grin. “She drops in from time to time to time to assist me with choreography.”

Trixie didn’t want to admit it, but she was intimidated. This woman was beyond stunning. She suddenly felt so underdressed; wanting to withdraw into herself and run off stage. If she was still in high school, she probably would have faked being sick and taken a trip to the nurse’s office. But this wasn’t high school. This was real life, and as much as she hated it, she had to step up to the plate.

Everyone had welcomed her with open arms, quite literally, but Trixie held out her hand. A handshake. Trixie Mattel was a dumbfounded idiot in this very moment, there was no question about it. She noticed the hesitation in Tatianna’s eyes before the woman took her hand in one smooth motion. Of course her skin was like silk. Just as she pulled away, Adore basically pounced on her with an embrace. 

“Tati and I have a number rehearsed for you all to learn, so take a seat.” Katya signalled to the row of chairs that had been set up by the cocktail tables in front of the stage. The girls made their way down, settling comfortably in their positions as the lights dimmed, and the music began. Their movements were so enticing, and so fluid, from the moment that the piece started.

“God, it’s so obvious that they used to fuck.” Pearl smirked, keeping her voice low enough to only be heard by the dancers in the audience. All of the girls sat in awe, watching as Tati and Katya moved so in sync that it was obvious they’d done these numbers before. She didn’t even want to entertain the idea of them doing anything other than dancing, for her own emotional well-being. Trixie wasn’t blind – she could see the obvious connection that they had. Everyone could. 

“Some of us are trying to actually memorise what they’re doing.” Trixie chimed in, arching her brow as she slunk back into her chair. 

She attempted to look at this purely objectively, as if she was just studying their movements. Her heart sank with every grind that Katya made against the brunette. First and foremost, they were dancers, and this was work – Trixie had to remember that.

“Jealous, Trixie?” Violet laughed, nudging her partner beside her. 

She wanted to disappear, and the worst part was, she knew she was blushing. After being reprimanded for kissing Vi, the last thing she wanted was the attention back on her.

* * *

“The usual?” Craig asked as Trixie took a seat on one of the wooden bar stools. She so badly wanted to drink; wanted something to take away the events of today, and to suppress the ache on the heels of her feet.

The club was completely full tonight; it usually was whenever they advertised new performance numbers. Trixie had finished both of her sets tonight, too lazy to change out of her stage attire. Her blonde curls were teased to perfection, and the thought of having to brush through all that hairspray caused her stomach to turn. 

“It’s a work night, I can’t.” She groaned, rejecting the offer for alcohol, when truthfully, she knew it would help to relax her. “Do we have orange juice?” Craig was quick to reply with a nod before fixing her drink. 

Trixie turned slightly in her chair, her back almost to the bar now as her eyes hovered over the stage. Katya was on – the spotlight magnifying a warm halo around her figure. The audience were always enthralled by her, and rightfully so. Her movements were so seamless and she knew that she was exuding sensuality. 

But something was just slightly off tonight. Her movements didn’t follow through as precisely as they had when Trixie first started there. Any normal member of the public wouldn’t notice the way her fingertips didn’t completely outstretch, or the lack of effort in her forward bend. But she noticed, and it made her curious. 

“Has Katya seemed a little… _off_ to you recently?” She questioned Craig, finally tearing her eyes away from the show.

She fixated upon the plastic straw in her drink, twirling it between her fingers for a moment before taking a sip. God, she wished there was vodka in there. 

“I’m surprised, none of the other girls have mentioned it to me.” Craig replied, continuing to fill other drink orders as he did so.

Maybe she really was going crazy then, and this was all in her head?

“You see things in her that nobody else does, Trixie.” He continued on, putting the drinks up on the bar for the waitress before slinging a dish towel over his shoulder. He wiped up quickly before moving directly opposite the blonde.

It would have been stupid to admit that his comment didn’t make her heart race. She marvelled in the fact she could pick up Katya’s nuances. 

She turned back around briefly, half towards the stage again and waited a moment. The crowd cheered gleefully as Katya rolled her hips in time with the music.

“See!” She whispered loudly to her co-worker. “She didn’t follow through.” It was strange how Trixie had gone from knowing virtually nothing about burlesque dancing, to critiquing her boss’ work. 

“Can you not tell everyone that our leading lady isn’t on her A-Game?” Craig hushed her with a chuckle.

“So, tell me what’s wrong, because I know you know.”

“It isn’t my place to say, doll.” His response only elicited a groan from her.

“Fine,” She heaved herself up from the seat, snatching her drink quickly. No matter how hard she tried, Craig wasn’t going to tell her but at least she’d received confirmation that there was something going on behind the scenes. “Apparently I have to do everything myself around here.” She teased, which only caused Craig to laugh even harder.

She trekked backstage again, by-passing the dressing rooms and making a beeline straight to Katya’s office. The woman was still on stage entertaining, but technically the door was unlocked. She wasn’t trespassing - _not really_. Obviously, she had some time to kill until the woman finished for the evening, so she took a seat on the whiskey-coloured leather couch, setting her drink upon the matching table nearby. The room was a tidy mess; she was sure that Katya knew where everything was, despite it looking disarrayed to the naked eye.

With a huff, she filtered through a stack of retired burlesque books, from which Katya had obviously sought inspiration. Some of the looks were identical to the costumes the girls owned. They were beautiful, and the women were classier than Trixie ever considered herself to be. 

Minutes must have gone by, because she was startled out of her daze by the door abruptly opening, before Katya entered with a relieved sigh. Her steps were cut short the moment she noticed the other woman’s presence.

“Jesus, Trixie, what are you doing in here?” Katya wandered over to her own private vanity before grabbing a towel to blot away the sweat on her face from her performances.

“I wanted to talk to you…without you berating me over my choreography.” Trixie folded the book back up, before setting it on the table next to her glass which she’d abandoned for the sake of the conversation.

“You were still off the entire second half of the number.” 

Trixie huffed. She knew she had trouble grasping the new dance moves today, but it wasn’t really noticeable. Rather than following her boss’ lead, she stayed put on the couch.

“…and you never followed through on _any_ of your moves.” Trixie piped up.

“Excuse me?”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. Katya had every right to point out if Trixie wasn’t doing her job right, but it definitely didn’t work both ways. She shuffled uncomfortably, her stockings squeaking slightly against the leather sofa as she crossed her legs. 

“I –” Trixie knew she had to save herself, and quickly. “You just don’t seem yourself lately, that’s all.” She let out a shaky breath, relief washing over her. Thankfully, her mind slowed down enough for her to actually form a proper sentence that didn’t sound too harsh.

Her view was focused on her own lap, but she could see Katya removing her makeup in her peripheral vision; her red lip was the first thing to come off. 

“Don’t you think that’s a little presumptuous?” Katya arched her brow. Trixie could feel the woman’s eyes on her, rebounding from the reflection in the mirror. 

“No, I just…” She was forming a habit of stumbling over her words tonight. “Something’s off.” 

Katya failed to acknowledge her comment, almost as if a metaphorical wall had been built between the two of them. Trixie was desperate to knock it down – she was just unsure of the correct verbiage. 

“Is it about what happened the other night?” Trixie questioned, hopeful that maybe she’d find the answer from there.

“You’re creating an intervention for something that doesn’t concern you.” Her tone wasn’t laced with malice, in fact, it was quite the opposite. Truthfully, it was nice to know that Trixie cared enough to pull her aside and find out what was going on, but she was cautious.

Trixie watched on as Katya applied a layer of moisturiser to her now clean skin, before retreating from the vanity and finally taking a seat beside her on the couch. She loosened up slightly, turning herself inwards to face her boss. The light in the room was just enough to cast a faint glow around Katya’s face, the deep purple circles under her eyes now making an appearance. 

She looked exhausted, and reserved, as if she had just put her body through the wringer when really, this was a regular day for her. The sight caused Trixie to chew the inside of her cheek momentarily, out of anxiety. Katya didn’t look like herself, and it made her heart lapse slightly.

Trixie hooked her legs underneath her, turning now to completely face her counterpart. She studied her face; Katya’s cheeks slightly more sullen than usual. This was a woman who usually sexually emanated pure grace and dignity, and in this very moment, she looked shattered.

“Please let me in.” Trixie’s whisper was barely audible over the pumping bass of the music outside the door. Carefully, she laid a hand gently upon Katya’s thigh, watching for any sign of refusal. The last thing she wanted to do was hold her, without her consent. 

She realised how completely opposite they looked in this very moment. Trixie was still in her paint, her hair as voluminous as possible, and the loops of her corset dug into her back. Katya was sans makeup, and her hair now hung lazily around her harsher features. 

“I relapsed, Trix.” Katya’s voice broke with defeat, before a shaky breath proceeded to pass her lips. 

The confession caused Trixie’s brows to furrow, tilting her head to the side slightly. The two hadn’t exactly shared excessive amounts of information about themselves since they first met; but for the most part, they _understood_ each other. 

“Drugs have always been a problem for me,” She continued nonchalantly, as if she was almost at peace with the fact now. “They’re always going to be a problem for me.”

Trixie stayed silent, instead, empathising by gently caressing the woman’s thigh with her thumb. It was no secret that she had a problem interrupting people at times, but she knew now to stay completely silent and just respect what Katya had to say.

“I’ve been so stressed lately, and I just slipped up.”

Trixie turned her hand around, leaving her palm open. Thankfully, Katya slipped her fingers against hers, intertwining them securely. 

“I started burlesque when I was back in Boston and I was surrounded by…everything you could possibly want. It just became the norm for me to get high every night before the show. I got to a point where I couldn’t go onstage unless I was on something.” Katya didn’t make eye contact with Trixie throughout her recollection. Her voice was pained, unforgivingly reliving the events that ensued in her past.

“Craig was the bartender at Jacque’s. I asked him for more alcohol than you could imagine. Every night, it was cocaine and whiskey, one after the other. I got to the point where it was affecting everyone around me…and he stepped in, and helped me out of it. I got my ass into a 12-step program and made sure that I got clean and sober.” The blonde gave her employee a defeated half-smile, unsure of how she was going to handle the situation.

It wasn’t every day that your boss admitted to having a substance addiction in their past. That was a situation intended to be kept completely under wraps. Everyone had their own skeletons in their closet, and Trixie was entirely willing to accept Katya’s.

“But, you’re okay now? You’re getting help again?” Trixie finally whispered, unsure of how to handle the situation. 

Her step-father had been riddled with alcoholism, but dealing with him was a completely different ordeal. Quite frankly, she didn’t care about his well-being. The only way to cope back then was to lock herself in her room, praying that he wouldn’t kick down the door. But this was Katya – someone who she cared so deeply about.

“I am.” The shorter blonde leaned in, burying her neck in the crook of Trixie’s neck, settling there. 

Trixie forced her breathing to regulate; refusing to let the proximity get to her. She brought her free hand to the back of Katya’s neck, her fingertips gingerly soothing the roots of her hair.

“Thank you for trusting me with this.” Trixie murmured, clutching her hand slightly tighter. She could feel Katya’s sharp exhale against her skin, her body stirring in response.

The two hadn’t exactly known each other for very long, but they’d shared enough of a connection for Trixie to know this was a relationship that she didn’t want to lose. Whether it was her crying to Katya in DeLa’s kitchen about her past, or now Katya admitting her relapse, there was no doubt there was an immense amount of trust there.

“I think I have bigger battles to fight.” The Russian cringed.

“Like what?”

“Like you using that stupid hairspray that makes you smell like an old woman.” Katya scoffed playfully and Trixie immediately pulled her hand away from her grasp, slapping her thigh with a sharp sting.

“Takes one to know one, you bitch.”

The two burst out in a fit of laughter, unhinging their contact from one another. It felt like all of the uncomfortable tension had lifted off them, and Trixie couldn’t be more grateful…that was until Katya spoke up again.

“I promised Tati dinner tonight, help me get ready?” 

Trixie immediately felt her heart drop, and a lump in her throat rise up. Her smile faltered slightly now at the prospect of Katya and Tatianna. The fact that they had history together was even more emotionally debilitating. Katya seemed to be further slipping away from her grip, and maybe she’d already missed the opportunity to make a move? Maybe what happened between her and Violet had fucked everything up?

“Of course.” She kept her tone soft, to not give away her façade. 

Katya climbed up off the couch, dipping around the corner to her wardrobe to change, and Trixie aimlessly leaned over to her neglected glass of juice before taking a sip to pass the time. It wasn’t long before the blonde returned in a long-sleeve black and white shift dress, with dark thigh high boots to match. Trixie was in awe.

“I didn’t want to wear my stage makeup going out,” Katya shrugged, settling back into a chair at her vanity and applying a fresh layer of foundation to her skin. “They might think I’m trying to sell my ass on the corner of the street.”

“Oh, so you’re not working tonight?” Trixie countered with a smirk, eliciting another wheeze of laughter from the Russian. 

“You’re a rotted bitch, Trixie.”

She padded her way over to the station as the smaller of the two finished off her contour. Rummaging around through the cosmetics on the counter, the blonde settled upon a liquid liner pen. 

“Watch it, I might take your eye out with this thing.” 

Trixie kicked off her heels, bringing her stature down to a more reasonable height. She shook up the small article ensuring that it was ready to go, and Katya instinctively fluttered her eyes shut. The taller blonde leaned in, meticulously tracing a wing on both of her eyelids. Once she was finished, the Russian reached out, pulling Trixie on to her lap with a firm grasp on her thighs. She playfully yelped at the change in position, steadying herself with her knees on either side of the chair, praying that the furniture would be forgiving enough to hold the both of them.

“I could get used to this view.” Katya smirked, as Trixie brushed her curls behind her shoulders.

“You just like having a woman on top of you.”

“A _beautiful_ woman makes all the difference.”

Trixie rolled her eyes, quashing the temptation to smile by reaching around and grabbing Katya’s signature red MAC lipstick. Maybe she thought that the woman would be less inclined to make out with Tatianna at the end of the night with a darker lip on, as opposed to a nude.

“Shut up.” She whispered, knocking off the cap of the tube, before placing her fingertips underneath the woman’s sharp jawline, angling it up towards her.

She anchored her weight down, digging her hips into Katya’s; her mouth slightly agape in a faint moan that left her lips perfectly parted for lipstick application.

Trixie could have sworn that she felt her boss’ fingertips grip her tighter, her fingernails threatening to break the delicate weaves of her stockings. She ached for some kind of movement – any friction that could assist her, but she refrained. This woman was after all going on a _supposed_ date, and as much as she wanted to ruin it, she didn’t. 

“All done.”

Trixie leaned to the side slightly, giving the blonde underneath her a better view of her reflection in the mirror. Immediately, Katya bore a grin, leaving a faint print of red on her pearly whites.

“Oh fuck.” She groaned, leaning in closer and vigorously rubbing the stain off her teeth.

“You know there’s a trick for that, right?” Trixie noted. “Open your mouth.” The woman did as she was advised.

She slipped her finger between Katya’s parted lips, resting slightly on her lower one. 

“Now close, and suck gently.” Their eyes locked and Katya’s mouth enclosed upon Trixie’s digit, sucking a little harder than she was instructed. The gesture caused her hips to twitch, bucking forward only slightly. Reluctantly, Trixie slowly edged her finger from her mouth, prompting a feathery ‘pop’ sound and leaving a ring of Russian Red imprinted on her skin.

She held her hand up matter-of-factly, proudly showing off her life hack. “See.”

Trixie noticed the darkness in Katya’s eyes – the tinge of need that she had completely inflicted upon the both of them. She eased herself off her lap, refusing to push the boundaries too much. The events of the night prior ran through her head; she could potentially be fired for hitting on her boss if it wasn’t receptive. She wasn’t willing to fight fire with fire.  
“Get goin’.” The Barbie blonde nodded her head towards the door, ushering her out. “Don’t keep Tati waiting.” It physically pained her to say that, but there was no point in disregarding the other girl altogether. 

“Thank you, krasotka.” Katya’s voice was nearly a purr as she got up from the chair, placing a delicate kiss upon the dancer’s cheek before retreating from the room, bag in hand. “You can stay and read, just remember to lock up behind you.” She was of course referring to watch she had interfered with earlier.

Trixie had been left high and dry as the door clicked closed behind Katya. The feeling of leaning on top of the woman was imprinted so vividly in her mind, and the more she dwelled on it, the more she wished she wouldn’t have played it safe. Wandering over to the couch, she sat back, running her hands through her hair with a frustrated sigh.

Everything played back; the faint lingering of cigarettes on her breath, the moan that Katya couldn’t suppress and the stirring of her own hips from underneath her clutch. Tilting her head back against the leather exterior, her eyes fell closed as her body inconsolably writhed against the seat. 

The fact that Katya has just up and left so suddenly, only made her want more. She craved her touch, slowly running her own fingertips down past her corset, dipping into her underwear that was laced with her own arousal. She couldn’t help but wonder if Katya had felt her heat against her own, and the thought only evoked soft, teasing circles against her clit. 

Trixie gasped at the faintest of touches, her body tensed as she sought out a climax based on her fantasy alone. What if she’d stayed in the chair, on top of Katya, riding her fingers through an orgasm? The image alone only caused her to taunt herself more, experimentally sliding her index and middle fingers inside of her with a sizable moan to match. 

Her back arched at her own sensitivity as she pumped her fingers rhythmically, imagining that Katya’s hands were the ones making her weak. The woman’s name slipped her lips in a whimper as she quickened the pace, her other hand urgently gripped the couch to steady herself as best as she possibly could.

She eased her fingers out, gliding them back up to her clit as she roughly began caressing. Her breath quickened immediately and her whole body tensed as she reached her orgasm in a matter of moments with Katya’s name dripping from her lips. The atmospheric sound of the club was loud enough to mask any noises from the outset, and it was the least of her worries right now. After coming down from the wave of pleasure, she stayed limp against the sofa to compose herself. 

Had she really just fucked herself in her boss’ office after sending her off on a date? Yes. Yes, she had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE STILL LOVE ME AFTER THAT.
> 
> Also - I know this chapter was a lot longer than my usual. Would you guys prefer I make the chapters longer, and upload less frequently? Or shorter and quicker?


	9. Life is far from sunny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Homophobia and physical abuse/domestic violence.
> 
> I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update, I've been inundated with college work. This is a much longer chapter than I expected, but enjoy!
> 
> Come find me on tumblr: @iqkittygirl

“…and you’re happy?” Trixie’s mother questioned from the other end of the phone, the hope hung heavy in her voice.

The word happy locked in her mind, taunting her endlessly for a few long seconds. Trixie had never truly envisioned herself to be ‘happy’ – she always assumed that kind of contentment was a social construct derived from the ‘American Dream’. The truth was that happiness was so much more than what they’d drilled into her at school; a good husband, a job that paid well and two kids to look after in the midst of the suburban Midwest.

She was the furthest thing from that narrative.

Los Angeles put her life in the fast lane in every way possible. She was running herself down working two jobs with barely a day off, coupled with what seemed like an unrequited interest in a woman…who also happened to be her boss. It was complicated, but was she happy?

“Yeah, mom.” A grin tugged the corner of her lips into a half smile. “I’ve never been better.”

Trixie knew that as soon as she said it, there was a large possibility her mother could have taken it as a slap in the face towards her upbringing. Everyone in their family knew that they had a broken home, but she could only pray her mother wouldn’t forget that in this very moment.

“I’m glad, sweetheart.” There was a tinge of sadness in her tone, evidently caused by her prior mistakes in her daughter’s adolescence. “Tell me about this place you’re working at during the evenin’. Is it safe for young women? It’s not a strip club, is it?”

The snappy questioning only caused Trixie to laugh. She’d briefly mentioned she’d taken up a job at the nightlife precinct, although it never truly exceeded beyond that conversation, until now. 

“I’m not stripping, don’t worry.” She assured her senior. “It’s a burlesque lounge called ‘Club Katya’. The girls I work with are really nice…they make me feel like I belong there.”

“And you still work at the diner, too?”

“Mhmm,” She nodded, despite her mother not being able to see her. “It’s long days but I need to pay the rent somehow.”

“I’m proud of you, Trixie.”

“Thanks, mom.” She was doing her best to hide her smile in her tone. “I have to make some dinner, but I’ll call you sometime next week.”

There was something so pure in knowing that her mother was proud of her. Trixie felt like she’d been working all her life to hear that statement. In her youth, it had gotten to a point where she felt as though the four walls confining her to her bedroom were all she had. Yes, she came out to Los Angeles to sing, but she had a newfound love for burlesque now. Besides, who’s to say that she couldn’t get a gig singing at the club anyway – she’d already done it once before. 

Anxiously, she tugged her oversized sweater down her thighs to prohibit it from riding up anymore. The idea of wearing pants in her own domain was not only unnecessary, but also annoying. She shuffled through the mail, opening up what looked like a general letter from her landlord. Scanning the trajectory of the page, she grasped one thing; her rent was being increased, despite having already signed a contract.

“What the fuck…” She muttered to herself, scrambling for her cell phone once more and dialling the number on the top right hand corner of the page.

Bringing the mobile up to her ear, the conversation started off perfectly polite, and the blonde eloquently explained that she couldn’t afford the new rental price. What kind of landlord changes the costs with so much as a letter delivered to her door. The extra hundred dollars wasn’t something that she could spare every month – buying food was tough enough as it was.

As the discussion progressed, Trixie grew more and more agitated. He didn’t care that she couldn’t afford it, or she had no other place to go, or that her family was back in Milwaukee. The last thing she wanted to do was see her step-father again. Her sob story wasn’t warranted, nor did he have the time of day to argue.

“I want you out by tomorrow.” His voice was short and sharp.

It completely took her by surprise. Twenty hours notice was surely illegal. The blonde just about ran over to one of the drawers, fetching her letting contract. 

“You can’t evict me on the spot like that, you have no right!” Trixie held back her aggression as much as she possibly could, but she was just about on the verge of snapping.

“I can and I will.”

She flipped through the pages, quickly scanning each as she went. She halted at the eviction clause, and…he was right. He could evict her on the spot, just like that under pretences of contractual change. Trixie mentally reprimanded herself for not reading her documents more precisely. 

“Be out by 9am tomorrow.”

* * * 

Trixie had bundled up all of her belongings into the two suitcases that she’d brought with her from Wisconsin. It didn’t take her too long to gather her things together, but by the time she had finished, the sun had entirely set. This was going to be her final evening in this dive of an apartment that she was paying far too much money for in the first place. The thought of being alone and having to wake up and leave in the morning caused her stomach to turn. Luckily, she’d only paid rent through to the weekend anyway, so she wasn’t losing out on much money at all.

Her fingertips gravitated back to the touch screen of her phone, instinctively finding Katya’s number in her contacts list. It was almost like a reflex now. She felt somewhat guilty for always leaning on this woman, but it was almost too embarrassing to contact her castmates.

She’d always withheld a sense of pride in herself. Just because she was crying poor didn’t mean that she was willing to sacrifice her image. Katya had already seen her in times of strife, and in all honesty, that made things a little easier.

“Trixie?”

“Hey.” The disappointment in her voice was evident just from speaking one word. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” She was thankful that Katya sounded concerned, moved by it even.

“I got evicted.” She was defeated. After being on the phone with her mother and telling her about how much she loved this city, karma had decided to punish her for whatever reason. “They upped my rent, and I couldn’t afford it, so I called up my landlord and we may…we may have gotten into a slight argument.”

Katya groaned from the other end of the phone, and Trixie habitually chewed the inside of her cheek out of nerves. What if this woman wouldn’t let her stay on her couch for a few days until she found another rental? Maybe she could contact Violet instead.

“Never argue with your landlord, krasotka.” The Russian scolded her, leaving a pink hue blessing Trixie’s cheeks once more.

“I know that now…”

“Do you need a place to stay?” Katya had literally taken the words right out of Trixie’s mouth. There was something so humiliating about having to ask about sleeping on her sofa for a few days until she found her feet, but now she didn’t have to.

“I promise it won’t be for long, Kat.”

* * *

“For some reason, I expected Barbie to have more than two suitcases,” The Russian mused teasingly, setting the luggage down by the recliner for the moment.

Trixie despised being an imposition on anyone. It was a discourse that most likely started in her childhood home – the birthplace of her many insecurities that she was desperately trying to overcome. 

“Barbie can’t afford more than two.” She rolled her eyes, smirking at the side of the couch being made up with a pillow and a blanket. It was a sweet gesture that caused her stomach to twist with butterflies for a fleeting moment.

“Well, you can stay here as long as you need.”

“Thank y-” Before Trixie could verbalise her gratitude, the bedroom door creaked open. Tatianna walked out with a proud smile, her hair amess. She looked utterly fucked out, with the remnants of last night’s mascara still clinging to her lashes. Even in this light, and an oversized t-shirt, she looked stunning beyond words.

“Hi,” The brunette spoke shyly, retreating to the kitchen to fetch herself a glass of water.

The butterflies in Trixie’s stomach had deflated to a jealous pang, as if a knife had been twisted into her abdomen. Not only did she feel as though she was becoming a burden in someone’s home, but now she had to contend with envy.

“T-Tatianna, hey.” She truly didn’t plan to stumble over her words, but alas, she did. The last thing she wanted to do was make the situation most uncomfortable than it already was. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Katya shuffle restlessly. “Good night?” Trixie bit her own tongue the moment the question slipped her lips.

Usually, she had a pretty good filter, but she was slowly finding out that she grew weak in when communicating whilst she was around a certain blonde.

“It was good, for old time’s sake.” Tatianna smirked, offering a wink to Katya. “Choices.”  
Trixie swore she felt bile rise in her throat. Suddenly the prospect of staying with Violet was growing more and more tempting. Before she could retaliate, the choreographer had excused herself to take a shower. As soon as the pipes groaned, and the sound of water hitting the bathroom tiles filtered down the hall, Trixie spun to face Katya.

“You failed to mention that last night’s conquest was still here.” She whispered almost brusquely.

The phrase immediately emitted a laugh from the Russian.

“It’s Tati, not some random hook-up.”

…and with that, the knife in Trixie’s stomach twisted 90 degrees. The way she reasoned with her was how anyone would project when discussing someone they cared about. 

“No, I know…hence why I want to give you some privacy.” Trixie nodded towards the bathroom.

There was a good part of her that wanted to stay and consistently ‘cock-block’ Katya at every turn, but she knew that emotionally, she couldn’t take it. She envisioned trying to get to sleep on a couch, over-hearing a number of sounds being shared between the Russian and Tatianna – the image was enough for her to recoil internally. This wasn’t a good idea by any means.

“Haven’t you ever heard of voyeurism?” Katya smirked, her eyes dragging up and down Trixie’s frame. Suddenly, the taller blonde felt achingly vulnerable, but not necessarily in a bad way.

“I’m not prepared to watch, or hear, you two fucking from the next room.”  
“Are you kink shaming me, Trixie?” It was obvious that Katya was attempting to hold back a laugh.

“Oh, shut up.”

“It was just a one-night kind of thing, I can promise you that much.” 

Trixie was more relieved than what she let on. The couch would have to do for now, especially considering the fact that she didn’t want to ruin her friendship with this woman over her jealousy towards the club’s choreographer.

* * *

“Is it that bad?” Trixie groaned, bouncing anxiously in her clear stilettos. Her stockings had acquired a small tear, and the worst part being that this was her emergency pair. “Do you think the audience will see it?”

“Would you stay still?” Katya was on her knees, her hand coming to grip Trixie’s ankle to keep her in place. “They won’t see it if you stop moving and let me fix it.”

“I asked the girls if they had any spare, but no one had the right nude.” She had a terrible habit of blabbering on when she was nervous. The fact that she had a costume malfunction right before her number was reason enough to put her at unease.

She watched as Katya gently pulled the small break to a close, sealing it with a small amount of top coat nail polish that was sitting on her vanity. Trixie felt the substance cling to the inner part of her knee, knowing too well that it would come off easily at the end of the night with some warm water.

“It’s not going to dry in time.” The Barbie whined, tossing her hair back.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a brat?”  
“Watch it, Zamo. My heel is dangerously close to your face.”

“Ugh, I love it when you talk dirty.” Katya smirked, beginning to blow warm air on the patched-up nylon, inadvertently hitting Trixie’s thigh.

Her eyes fluttered momentarily at the sensation – the vision of what had happened on the couch behind her bore into her mind. Katya’s breath hit her skin a couple more times, and she felt herself becoming more and more flustered.

“You know, I could get used to this view.” The Russian continued, peering up at the taller of the two from under her thick lashes.

“How long have you been a liar?” Trixie cocked her head to the side, arching her brow.

One more blow, and it finally caused her to shiver. 

“Get your ass on stage, kotenok.”

“A new nickname, hm? What did I do to deserve that?”

As Katya got to her feet, it took all of Trixie’s willpower to step towards the door, her shoes clicking happily against the ground as she moved. The Russian didn’t respond with anything more than an eye roll.

“At least tell me what it means?” Trixie’s hand found the door knob, her eyes still on Katya.

“Kitten. Now go.”

“Can you come and watch my number tonight?” 

Katya immediately gave her a single nod.

Those familiar butterflies that she’d sworn to kill had come back with so much as a small gesture. Exiting from her boss’ office, she found her way to the stage wing. 

“Props, T?” The assistant passed her a white feather boa to match her corseted gold body suit complete with thin straps and white fringe along the bust, and a sailor’s cap with the pride rainbow at the front. It was a cute little detail that she adored purely because of how stupid it was.

“Thank you.” 

“Ladies and gentlemen, next up is our very own in-house Barbie doll, Miss Trixie Mattel.” Chris’ voice echoed through the club to a sound of cheers welcoming her on to the stage.

Tonight, she looked like a limited edition, Dolly Parton-esque Barbie doll, her breasts pushed up as high as padding would allow. The fringe swayed rhythmically with every movement. This was the number where she’d choose someone in the audience to taunt, and her brown hues automatically scanned the crowd to find Katya. Fuck, she was at the bar – too far away for her to time her moves perfectly.

She effortlessly hit every position on the beat, with whoops and cheers spurring her on. Stepping out on a turn, she stopped momentarily, noticing a familiar face waiting at the edge of the stage with a dollar bill in hand.

Josh.

Trixie was in utter shock. How did he find her? How did he even get here? Her angst was going to start taking a toll on her performance if she wasn’t careful. This was still her job, and she had to put on a show whether she liked it or not. 

His brunette hair was expertly swooped back, still somewhat embodying the high school jock stereotype, but now bred with a hipster, possibly. He looked different…changed, yet all her past memories with him flooded back in an instant.

He was close enough for her to poke fun at, so she’d might as well take her chance rather than choosing some random sleaze in the crowd. Getting down on her knees, she teasingly crawled over to him. By the time the distance had closed in on the two of them, he’d clamped the dollar bill between his teeth.

Burlesque dancers rarely accepted tips – that kind of thing was solely respective of strippers, exotic dancers and drag queens. But for him, she’d have to make an exception. Besides, she wasn’t exactly in the position to turn down a buck.

“Josh…what the hell are you doing here?” She whispered barely audibly, before leaning in and taking the money with her own teeth.

The man had a sly gleam in his eye – one which Trixie used to associate with his confidence, but now she knew it was purely mistaken for cockiness. He looked like a smug asshole if ever she saw one. 

“I was in town,” He shrugged. “And your mom told me you worked here. It was have been rude to not pay you a visit.”

She grabbed the dollar from her mouth, playfully throwing it behind her on the stage. Reaching to snatch the boa from her shoulders, she laced it over Josh’s own and shimmied it against his button up shirt.

“Well, thanks for comin’.” Her accent was starting to spark up in the presence of him already.

“I’ve never seen you like this before…” His awe was welcomed completely.

“It’s my new diet,” She joked, taking the sailor hat from the crown of her head, and leaning over to place it securely on top of Josh’s hair. “I’m eating pussy now.” She leaned in, pressing a hot kiss against his cheek, leaving behind a print of light pink lipstick. As she stood, she gave him a wink, his mouth agape.

Trixie had never felt so powerfully independent before. She had no inhibitions with hiding who she was, and she didn’t care if word got back to her family back home. After all, they truly already knew, but they couldn’t exactly do anything about it. It was freeing.

She finished her number with a wild applause greeting her final pose, her hands running down the curves of her figure. After blowing the crowd a kiss, she skipped off stage towards the dressing room. 

“Yeehaw Barbie looks good tonight.” Adore squealed happily, handing Trixie a bottle of water before she settled down on the couch, laying her frame over Violet who was already lounging there.

“What do you think, Bettie Page?” Trixie glanced up at Violet for validation.

“I can’t say what I think because I don’t want either of us getting fired.” The darker haired one smirked, causing a laugh from the room.

Violet set her phone down upon the armchair, aimlessly running her fingers through her friend’s hair. She didn’t exactly get very far considering the amount of teasing and hairspray that had gone into tonight’s look. 

She appreciated any of these small touches from Violet – it was an unlikely friendship that the two had begun to strike up and she was thankful for it. The woman came off as a bit uptight in the beginning, but she’d managed to warm up to Trixie’s open demeanor. 

The laughs in the room were abruptly silenced by a knock at the doorway and a man clearing his throat. He wasn’t even batting an eyelash at any girl in the room other than Trixie.

“Can I have a word?” Josh sounded timid, and almost slightly desperate.

Behind him, she could see one of the security guards…Katya must’ve requested an escort. Climbing off of the sofa, and Violet, she made her way through the hall, out to the alleyway with Josh in tow, the guard waiting respectfully close to the both of them.

“What’s this bullshit about you with girls, Trixie?”

Well, he was just diving right in, wasn’t he?

“I don’t understand why this is so surprising to you.” Defending herself, she leaned against the cool vastness of the brick wall. “There were so many rumours all over town, remember?”

Glancing down, she’d noticed his hands had balled into fists with his knuckles becoming white from the pressure. There weren’t many accounts where Josh had become physically aggressive, but he had his moments.

Maybe she’d encountered a couple of instances where he’d lost consciousness to his short temper. Both had resulted in small nicks, cuts or bruises, but in some dark facet of Trixie’s mind, it was better than being ridiculed by a whole town for who she chose to love. Josh was an easy way out, despite the trouble he caused from time to time.

“I came here to get back together with you and now you’re being a slut on stage for the world to see.” He spoke through gritted teeth. There it was, the familiar irritability that Trixie knew she had to diffuse. 

The shaming managed to cut her deep, but she’d be damned if she let it show. 

“It’s an art form.” She justified.

“You’re sucking dick and getting tipped for it, that’s not an art form.” He spat down at the concrete ground, right beside Trixie’s heel. His ignorance was far too much.

“I’m not sucking dick, this isn’t that kind of club,” She rolled her eyes, noticing the security guard behind Josh taking a cautious step forward. Trixie held up her hand lightly, signalling that she was alright. “Besides, who cares if it was? Who cares if I wanted to be promiscuous? You broke up with me, remember? You can’t dictate my every move or who I can and can’t sleep with.” So much for calming him down.

Her sentiments had caused him to snap, and before she could process it, he had flipped her around, forcing her to hit the exterior hard. She fumbled against the brick, a sharp sting now pricking her right cheek from grazing up against the rough surface.

She struggled momentarily under his grip but thankfully, the security guard ripped him from her with ease. Trixie turned back to face him – he was seething under the firm hand of his constraints. The alley door clicked open and Katya appeared, looking beyond pissed off. She had obviously been alerted to the situation that was developing outside. 

Trixie’s boss was quick to spark up a cigarette, taking a long inhale before blowing the second-hand smoke upwards. She had a devilish grin that now graced her lips, and Trixie remained still now watching on.

A sudden surge of guilt washed over her; Trixie was always getting herself into trouble. It was almost as if she was testing the security guards at the club, but that was the least of her intentions. The cause was the same every time; two idiot men who think they can run the place.

“Now here’s what we’re not going to do…” Katya held the cigarette between two fingers. Her free hand found Josh’s, caressing it with such impact that his knuckles managed to relax. Complying was his only option. “We’re not going to touch one of my employees. We’re not going to hit anyone’s ex-girlfriend, and we’re going to have some fucking respect for women. Isn’t that right?”

It was obvious by his expression alone that he loathed being belittled. Maybe he wasn’t retaliating purely because he knew that he could have charges pressed against him for his actions, and Katya definitely wasn’t the type of woman to let that kind of thing slide. Josh offered a nod in response, but it was unsatisfactory.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“T-That’s right.” He fumbled helplessly.

“Good…” Katya took his palm in her own, abruptly bringing the red hot head of the cigarette down to scorch his skin for a few long seconds, causing a yelp from him. “Now stay the fuck away from my club.”

* * *

Trixie lightly drummed her knuckles against the bedroom door and, without waiting for an answer, she cautiously cracked it open. Katya had leaned up, resting her weight on her elbows as her dazed expression found the blonde in the doorway.

“I can’t sleep.” Her expression was pouty, as she shifted from one foot to another. The events from the evening were registering too deep in her mind. Her anxiety had been triggered, and her thoughts now flowed to her in mass waves.

“Come here.” Katya feigned a groan, pushing the sheets back on the other side of the bed. There was enough of the light pollution seeping in through the window for Trixie to notice the Russian was only wearing a matching set of grey Calvin Klein underwear.

She assumed her place next to her boss on the mattress; not only was the entire situation wildly inappropriate in itself, but there were so many other things currently running through her mind. _Katya and Tatianna had sex in this bed last night. Did she change the sheets at least? I should really stay with Violet…_

“A word of caution: I snore, and kick in my sleep,” Katya warned her counterpart, snatching Trixie from her influx of thoughts.

“What are you? A fucking horse?” Trixie quipped.

“People have said I look like Sarah Jessica Parker.” 

The statement caused the Midwesterner to screech with laughter, reflexively lifting the pillow from underneath her head and gracing Katya with a playful whack to her side.

“Don’t you ever talk shit on Carrie Bradshaw.”

“Fine, fine!” Katya snatched the pillow from Trixie’s grasp, holding it hostage on her side of the bed. “So, I’m not allowed to disrespect a fictional character, but you’re allowed to treat my belongings like nothing?”

Trixie leaned over, attempting to snatch the bedding from her, but failed miserably with her body now pressed up against Katya’s. Her feeble attempts to acquire the pillow only caused friction between their two bodies. The older of the two continuously held it further and further from Trixie’s scope.

“Apologize, mom.” Her attitude bordered on sarcasm and dead-seriousness. 

“Trix, it’s a commonly known fact that she looks like a horse. I’m not saying sorry.”

The blonde Barbie hoisted herself on to Katya’s frame, her legs straddling either side with her knees digging into the mattress. She reached over in hopes to finally secure the pillow, but before she could grab on, the woman under her had thrown it over to the other side of the room.

As Katya turned her attention back to Trixie, she spotted some small bruising around the cut on her cheek as a result of the evenings entailments. She trailed her fingertips along the small wound, as Trixie melted into her touch while her eyes flickered closed.

The mood in the room had completely shifted at that small gesture. Her anxiety seemed to waiver as her caress lingered. Katya’s nurturing side was faultless, especially when it came to times of such turmoil for Trixie. She felt bad for burdening this woman with all of her emotional, and physical baggage. If she wasn’t getting her drink spiked, she was getting assaulted by her ex-boyfriend. She couldn’t seem to win.

“Does it hurt?” Her boss’ voice was kind – a tone that she often craved to hear.

“Only a little.”

Trixie’s eyes searched for Katya’s, wanting to focus on nothing but her. She was the only person that could silence the disorder that writhed in the confines of her mind. Before she could go into any further detail, the blonde beneath her sat up, her hands securely fastening at the small of her back. 

“There’s no chance of him getting back into the club, I assure you,” Katya ruminated. “Now hopefully there won’t be any more chances for you to play my damsel in distress, huh?”

“Hey –” Trixie protested, before pinpointing the fact that she’d been somewhat claimed. “First of all, I’m not a damsel and second of all, I don’t belong to anyone, thank you very much.” She smiled smugly. 

With her eyes closed, her senses were heightened. A breathless gasp escaped her mouth as she felt Katya place a gentle kiss upon the flesh wound on her cheekbone. 

“I’m proud of myself,” Trixie continued, her hands staying still in her lap. She liked the idea of being blind under this woman’s control. “For standing up for him, and for telling him who I really am…and that it’s okay to like more than just one gender.”

“It’s a terrifying thing to do, especially with someone you used to be so close to.” She could feel Katya’s breath hot against her skin as she whispered to her. 

She’d come to the conclusion that being with her, like this, was her favourite – her legs wrapped around Katya’s waist, and the woman’s face in close proximity to her own. It only made Trixie yearn for more, but she was timid considering only twenty-four hours ago, this premise was preoccupied by another.

Trixie finally opened her eyes, pulling back from Katya just enough to find her features.

“Are you scared of anything?” Her tone was pure.

“Plenty. But the real question is, is there anything you’re frightened about?”

The Midwesterner gently leaned in, fixing Katya’s mussed bangs as she gave her an empathetic smile. Her body felt electric, but her mind was at ease; the contrast made her heart race.

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

There was a deep pause as Katya’s hands languidly retreated down over Trixie’s ass to rest upon the sides of her thighs. Her digits always seemed to find contentment there, and neither of them were complaining.

“I’m scared of getting fired for fraternizing with my boss.” Her eyes automatically glanced down at the Russian’s lips, which were still vaguely tinted with her red lipstick. 

“I think we can make exceptions, don’t you?”

She edged in slightly further, and Trixie could feel Katya’s breath emanating from her lips. A small whimper of desperation automatically leaving her presence. If this evening’s events were going to culminate to the one thing that she’d wanted since she’d first met her manager, then suddenly, none of it seemed so bad.

Trixie closed her eyes again, awaiting the one gesture that she craved. Katya’s hands found her cheeks, sitting there comfortably as she gently braced herself against the other woman. The older of the two leaned up only somewhat, with her lips pressing a soft kiss against Trixie’s forehead. 

That was…not what she wanted, nor what she was expecting. Her heart deflated, with a disappointed mope surfacing that she prayed Katya wouldn’t notice. The touches were so tender, treating Trixie as if she was delicate. It was a caring sentiment, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t entirely want to be pinned to the bed and made out with.

The distance between them began to increase as Katya pulled away, returning her back to the mattress below them. Thank god the room was dark for the most part, because Trixie’s cheeks were warm with embarrassment. 

‘ _You’re an idiot, Trixie Mattel. A true to form idiot._ ’ She thought to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can someone come and collect Tracy pls, she keeps getting into trouble.


	10. She's imperfect but she tries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Hints of depression and anxiety. If you’ve ever moved to another city by yourself, you’ll know that the first month or so, you’re a mess mentally. Please know that I am not glamorizing mental illness in any way. As someone who has suffered from a number of things, it helps me to write about it sometimes.
> 
> Also, there's a themed event that takes place in this chapter where Trixie and Katya have certain looks. I found it so hard to describe them so here:  
> Katya's: https://i.imgur.com/68bjzMk.png  
> Trixie's: https://i.imgur.com/Zl12OI9.jpg
> 
> Enjoy, and come find me on Tumblr: @iqkittygirl

Trixie’s hips fluidly swayed from side to side, matching the exact rhythm of the Fleetwood Mac song she was humming. She paused herself, taking a sip from her mug of coffee that was flooded with far too much milk for any normal person, before returning her attention back to the stove. 

“For you, there’ll be no more cryin’,” She sang softly, taking a handful of blueberries from the punnet nearby, and meticulously placing them into the circle of half cooked pancake mixture in the pan. 

“For you, the sun will be shining,” Her tone remained pleasant as she handled the spatula, waiting for a few bubbles to appear on top of her breakfast concoction. “And I feel that when I’m with you –” She carefully placed the last pancake on top of the growing pile sitting on the plate beside the stove. 

“It’s alright. I know it’s right.” Before Trixie could turn around, she felt a pair of arms encapsulating her torso in a hug from behind.  
Her mind had obviously been off in her own world, not hearing out for any footsteps of movement coming from her newfound roommate. 

“Breakfast and Fleetwood Mac? What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment?” Katya’s voice was slightly huskier in the morning, her Russian accent just peeking through as she settled into her routine. 

“I owe you.” Trixie felt her spine melt against the woman’s front, feeling Katya’s jawline relax on her right shoulder.

“For what?”

“Saving my ass multiple times, and also letting me stay here.”

Trixie took the pan off the stove, leaning over, still in Katya’s grasp as much as possible, and placing it in the sink. She shifted back from the stretch of being on her tip-toes, before turning to face the woman behind her. There was almost an expectation that Katya would drop her embrace, but she didn’t. Instead, her hands wound safely to the confines of Trixie’s lower back.

The small touches were something she never thought she’d notice from anyone else. Josh was never this careful with her – he never took his time to just hold her and be present. The more time she spent with Katya, the more she noticed how much she had been missing out on. 

Every now and then, the thought of her boss and Tatianna would creep into her mind, despite being desperate to not even entertain the idea. It was a flurry of conclusions that she didn’t even want to jump into, especially when there were moments like this. 

She watched as Katya dipped her gaze, analysing the small cut on her cheek that was already beginning to scab over. 

“Are you going to be alright to perform tonight?” 

Trixie gave a justified nod, her hands happily sitting upon the woman’s structured biceps. 

“It’s nothin’ a little makeup can’t fix.” The blonde shrugged, her blonde curls springing in reply as well. The older of the two was sceptical. “Now, hurry up and eat before it goes cold.”

She pulled herself from Katya’s arms, and instantaneously, her touch was missed. Truly, she loathed being needy, but she couldn’t pinpoint why she wanted nothing more with this one person. 

Taking the plates from the counter, Trixie walked around and set them on the bar as the Russian collected the cups of coffee, half smirking at the milky-white colour of Trixie’s. The point of difference between their morning beverages alone was a perfect metaphor for who they were.

“Maple syrup?” She asked, handing the mostly full bottle over to Katya, who graciously shook her head as they both sat down.  
“I don’t like condiments, not even sweet ones.”

“Are you even human?” Trixie’s mouth opened agape slightly as she began smothering her own breakfast in the sickly-sweet sauce.

The domesticity of it all was obvious, and it only made her want to stick around longer. There were only so many more nights that she could spend on that couch…despite her run of ending up in Katya’s bed. She couldn’t help but wonder if, given the chance, Tatianna would have made her breakfast. 

She cut down some of her pancake, before happily placing it into her mouth. Trixie was a decently good cook after having to cover for her parents many school nights back in her childhood. Pancakes for dinner was always a favourite, so naturally, she was going to give Katya her best first impression.

“I think we’ve established that I’m in fact not human, but a mountain biking witch from the future.” The Russian’s jokes never really had a place. However, that’s what made them all the more humorous.

Trixie somewhat choked on her bite, as she tried to hold back her laughter. Truthfully, she knew she could never tire from the bullshit that came out of Katya’s mouth half the time. It was like the two of them could flow a conversation like it was nobody’s business. 

Finally swallowing, she spoke up.

“Please don’t kill me, you’re going to make me late for work.”

“Have you ever thought about quitting the diner?” 

It’d crossed Trixie’s mind once or twice. In all honesty, she didn’t mind her coworkers there, but some of the customers that came in weren’t exactly her cup of tea. If it meant that she didn’t have to serve a creepy older man ever again, she’d be the happiest person in Los Angeles. 

“Unless you want me on your couch for the rest of your life, then no.” She took another forkful of her breakfast. “Besides, Milk’s a good boss, and the tips are pretty decent too.”

“There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.” Katya countered, as if she had an enticing offer.

Trixie arched her brow in reply, angling her body fully towards the blonde before her, urging her to carry on.

“The club has been full pretty much every night since you arrived, Trix,” That statement made the Midwesterner blush. Had word really gotten out about the country hick in the big city? “So much so that we now have the means to pay all you girls a little more.”

Trixie’s mouth fell open slightly, as a grin surfaced at the corner of her lips. She was always extremely hard working, but never had she deemed herself worthy of a pay raise. 

“Can I ask how much more we’ll all be getting?” Some people were extremely shy talking about wages, and she was definitely one of them. Money had always been an issue for her growing up.

There were countless times where she’d lie to her classmates about how much cash her parents made. Luckily enough, they lived far enough out of the town her school was in, so no one ever really bothered to come over and confirm her remarks.

“Over double.” Katya’s answer was matter-of-fact, and it caused Trixie to immediately drop her cutlery before jumping from the bar stool with glee.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I want to get Violet off the streets so she can put a halt to selling drugs,” The Russian was doing her very best to contain her second-hand happiness for the Barbie who was bouncing excitedly before her. “And you’ll be able to afford rent without working two jobs.”

She was elated at the fact that she’d finally be able to have time off, and relax. Performing was hard work, and she wasn’t paid nearly enough at her waitressing job for the number of hours she stood on her feet.

“I’ll put in my two week’s notice today!” Trixie’s voice was practically a squeal.

* * * 

The events of Josh’s return had triggered Trixie more than she would have liked. The concept of having a thriving life seemed so far out of her grasp – the horizon grew further and further each second. Her mind ticked away, reliving every shred of verbal and physical abuse that she’d encountered in the past. There was only so many times you could brush it under the rug and call it a day, and maybe this was her breaking point.

Whenever she was really, deeply upset, she rarely put her emotions on display. Being a blank canvas was easier to explain to a stranger than why she was crying in public. 

Therapy was never an option. Not only was it a grapple with the health system and an issue concerning insufficient costs, but growing up, she never wanted her parents to know about how much she truly suffered behind her façade. They were from a different generation – depression was still taboo in the Midwest. ‘Harden up,’ they’d say. 

But there was something that she relied on – her crutch to spill all of her emotions on to paper, and turn them into something heartbreakingly beautiful. Music was her release, and it was something she could always depend upon.

Katya had given Trixie the night off from work, especially considering the bruising on her face was deepening beyond the help of a MAC colour corrector. She had so much free time that she didn’t know what to do with herself. 

So far in the evening, she’d spent her hours cooking herself up a bowl of pasta, and watching ‘Friday the 13th’. Horror films were strangely another comfort for her…maybe it was knowing that the characters in the narrative were having a much worse time than she ever could.

As the credits rolled through, her guitar case perched in the corner of the room took her attention. 

It wasn’t as if she was entirely sad, or angst-ridden, but a big part of her just felt empty. Getting up from the sofa, she padded her way over to the familiar piece of luggage, tearing the instrument from its enclosure.

She assumed her position back on the couch, her fingers plucking away at some of the stainless-steel strings, tuning it slightly from its last use. Her thoughts immediately started reigning in at the familiar sound.

Her mind blanked momentarily – could she even remember how to write a song? It’d been so long. 

“Don’t think too much about it.” She reminded herself aloud. 

Absentmindedly, she just began plucking away at the guitar before taking a few minutes to settle on a riff that she was happy with. Tucking the instrument against her, she leaned over, grabbing the spare pen and discarded shopping list from the coffee table.

The lyrics almost came instinctively. A lot of the time, Trixie wrote about what was relatable to her; whether they were experiences she had gone through, or what she was currently feeling. Very rarely did she pour her heart out for something she could only hope to ensue in the future. 

Frantically scribbling a few words down, she latched her hands back on to the guitar to start strumming once again.

“I can see the picket fences, I can see you all alone. Got no fear, got no pretences. We got nothin’ but our…” Her singing trailed off with a groan, her mind searching for the next phrase. “Sunglasses on.” She laughed at how lame it sounded. 

It was so unusual to be creating something that was so playful, rather than therapeutic and heavy. 

“Say we’ll never come back down to the place in the…something.” Trixie feverishly tapped the pencil against the notepad. Her eyes scanned the room for inspiration, but she was coming up blank. “Place in the clouds? Place in the _something_ cloud.” Another grunt of frustration escaped her lips but before she could continue, the latch from the front door echoed through the apartment.

She quickly flipped the notepad over, hiding the lyrics from Katya’s plain view. What kind of crazy person would write a song about a potential relationship with her boss? 

“Honey, I’m home!” Katya sang, settling her keys down on the kitchen bench before making a beeline straight towards the back of the sofa behind Trixie.

The blonde Barbie tilted her head back against the plush backing, so that she was looking at the Russian upside down. 

“How was work?” She questioned, arching her brow.

“Not the same without you there.” The response only caused Trixie to smirk.

Katya registered the notepad and pen, along with the guitar sitting quaintly in her lap. “Are you writing a song?” Her hands slowly settled upon the other woman’s shoulders – her fingertips gently digging into her muscles to relieve the burn from her slight hunch whilst playing.

“Maybe.” Her tone was cautious. “But that doesn’t mean you get to hear it just yet.”

Katya finally walked around the couch, settling down right beside Trixie, before kicking off her heels. Their knees barely nudged each other’s, but Trixie swore she felt her skin tingle just from that insanely small movement.

“Maybe you could perform it on Friday? We’re doing a themed night to celebrate Craig’s birthday.” 

Trixie’s stomach twisted immediately. There was no way in hell that she was going to be performing a song about her fantasy life with Katya, right in front of her and everyone she worked with. Anxiously, she dropped her gaze from the woman beside her, fingertips fumbling against the guitar and pulling a few wrong chords.

“What’s the theme?” Trixie questioned, desperate not to bring up the prospect of her performing again. 

“The 70’s.” Katya shrugged, aimlessly toying with the hem of her satin robe that she’d worn to work. 

“Wasn’t he born in 1980 though?”

“Technically, yes. But you know how much he loves old music, Trix.” 

Finally, there eyes met again, and Trixie could almost see the begging in her eyes for her to sing. Craig meant a lot to Katya – they’d been through thick and thin together. It seemed almost inconsiderate to refuse to play. 

“Can’t I just sing a Fleetwood Mac song then? Maybe rework some Bowie? I know he loves Bowie.” Trixie was desperately grasping at straws here.

“Do whatever you feel most comfortable performing,” Katya replied. A wave of relief washed over Trixie. “You now he’ll love whatever you choose.”

* * *

Friday was fast approaching, with Trixie only having approximately 24 hours left to sort out whether or not she was going to go with her original work, or an acoustic version of ‘Heroes’ by David Bowie.

She almost felt as if she had one more thing running through her mind, she’d turn clinically insane. Scientists say that on average, a human can only truly think about, and remember seven things at the same time, but at the speed Trixie’s mind was going, she was calling bullshit on that statistic.

“DeLa, I just don’t know what to do.” The blonde was hunched over her vanity, eyes closing as the lights decorating the mirror burned into her vision. She wanted to cry, but she just felt numb. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” DeLa grasped the blonde’s hands, leaning in to press a caring kiss to her cheek. This woman was like the mother that Trixie never had. “You need to tell her how you feel. You’re putting yourself through hell and back over ‘what if’s.” 

As if she wasn’t a bundle of nerves as it was.

“…and what if she doesn’t feel the same?” Trixie finally opened her eyes, focusing on DeLa’s reflection in the mirror, almost searching her features for answers.

“Then she doesn’t feel the same.” The darker haired woman shrugged empathetically. “You won’t be the only person to suffer from a broken heart, Barbie, and I hope you’ll find comfort in the notion, if things pan out that way.”

The nickname that DeLa had adopted from her own daughter had caused a faint smile to appear on Trixie’s hot pink lips. She was thankful that the dressing room was just as loud as it usually was – music pumping enough to mask out a lot of conversations, laughter coming from every corner of the room, and girls rushing to get ready. It took all of the attention off Trixie’s tiny meltdown.

There was something so reassuring about what her friend had just said, and she appreciated it more than words could currently express.

“Thank you.” She said simply.

* * *

Trixie finished her performance to a booming applause from the crowd. Up there, she felt untouchable. When she finished her number though, that’s when she’d receded into a more delicate and fragile facet of her personality; considering she’d had a series of ill-fated events procuring after shows. Hopefully tonight would break that tradition.

Gracefully making her way into the wing after her number, she picked up her bottle of water from the familiar table nearby. The only strange thing she noticed from her time on stage that Katya wasn’t in the audience – it was a custom that Trixie was so used to, and it almost swayed her tonight.

Heading back to the dressing room, the girls were still in their element of excitement, much like every other night. She almost felt as though she was a zombie, watching her life from the outside. Usually she’d be alongside them, giggling and dancing along to stupid pop songs that she secretly hated, but not tonight. Her mind was far too clouded.

“Has anyone seen Katya?” She piped up, almost nervously. 

She was met with a chorus of resounding ‘no’s, except for Adore. 

“I think she’s in her office actually! She said she had some business to take care of?” Adore piped up. “Probably sorting out our new fucking pay cheques!” The squeals that followed were enough to give Trixie a headache.

She blew Adore a thankful kiss before ambling her way down the hall in her clear PVC heels. Without even knocking, her fingers grasped the handle, pushing the door open with great fervour.

As soon as she passed the threshold, she stopped dead in her tracks. Trixie prayed that her eyes were deceiving her and that she was in an alternate universe where Katya wasn’t kissing Tatianna, with her hands up her skirt, and their joined moans filling up the silence in the room. The sight should have made Trixie cry, but it didn’t. She felt nothing.

“Trixie?” Katya pulled back from Tati’s lips, her red lipstick smudged down to her chin.

She stayed silent, in pure shock. She couldn’t find any words – not one. 

“Blyad.” Katya swore in her mother tongue as the other blonde turned on her heels, immediately exiting.

Trixie knew she had to get out of there, as quickly as she possibly could. She ran straight to her station backstage, collecting all of her things up in her Dolly Parton tote bag. Not even bothering to change, she threw her hoodie over her shoulders. In an instant, she felt a firm grasp on her arm. 

“Trixie, wait, I can explain.” Katya pleaded. From the small glance Trixie threw her, she noticed the anguish on her boss’ face. She pulled her arm gently from her hold, taking a moment to gather her thoughts.

“You have nothing to explain,” Trixie said coolly. “ _Co-workers should refrain from intimate relations throughout the course of their employment_ , right?” She quoted her contract so perfectly that it was almost as if she was reading off of it.

It was in this very moment that Trixie knew those feelings could have potentially been reciprocated, without even asking. Katya’s dampened expression gave it away completely. 

Trixie’s composure even surprised herself.

* * *

“Momma, what’s Barbie doing on the couch?” Rosie quipped, causing Trixie to stir against the cushion.

DeLa had allowed her to spend the night at her house, after she refused to go back to Katya’s apartment. 

The child flicked on the television, instinctively changing it to her favourite cartoon program as if it was just part of her daily routine. The blonde groaned somewhat as she felt a tiny hand brushing through her voluminous, tangled curls. 

“Barbie, wake up.” Her tone was caring enough that it made Trixie’s heart ache.

Flickering open her eyes, her vision blurred momentarily before focusing upon the little girl standing in front of her.

“Hey honeybear,” Her voice wasn’t as smooth as she would have liked, but it was the morning and she’d spent all night crying herself to sleep. 

DeLa came bustling in, with a plastic plate of Nutella toast and a glass of milk, setting it down on the plastic, child-sized table in the corner. “I’m sorry, Trixie.” Her tone was extremely apologetic. “She’s full of energy in the morning.”

“I don’t mind, really.” Heaving herself up from the couch, she wrapped the soft blanket around her torso for comfort…but also for decency, considering she didn’t have time to pick up all her clothes last night, so she just slept in her hoodie and underwear.

“What’s the plan of attack for today?” DeLa asked curiously.

“I figured everything out last night,” Trixie nodded. Turns out, when you can’t sleep and can’t stop crying, you actually come up with a number of game-plans. “Katya will be at the club rehearsing for Craig’s birthday show tonight, so I’ll get my things whilst she’s not there.”

She grabbed her cell phone from the coffee table, which was miraculously still decently charged. Five missed calls and four text messages appeared on her screen, all from Katya.

_Trixie, please pick up the phone._

_I’m sorry._

_Where are you? You’re not home? Are you somewhere safe?_

_Are you staying with BenDeLa?_

“I told her you were here, don’t worry.” It was as if her friend could read her mind. “What exactly happened last night?”

Thankfully, Rosie was transfixed on the television screen to not care about what the grownups were saying.

“I walked in on her and Tatianna, and…well, you can guess what they were doing.” Her eyes stang but she wasn’t sure if it was from threatening waterworks, or lack of sleep.

“Trixie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have suggested going to see her otherwise.”

“It’s not your fault, at all.”

It was only a few seconds before Trixie took solace again on the couch before Rosie clambered back over to her, tugging on the blanket relentlessly, just to get her attention.

“I ate all my breakfast but didn’t give you any,” The auburn girl pouted as if she was frustrated with herself. Trixie leaned down, hoisting her on to her lap before nuzzling her hair, and avoiding her chocolate covered face. “Momma, can you make Barbie some ‘Tella toast?”

Trixie desperately wished she could return to a time in her life when she had barely a care in the world like Rosie did. 

“It’s alright, I’m not hungry.” 

“I’ll get you a cup of coffee, but you need to eat. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.”

The Midwesterner stayed snuggled up close to Rosie, who made countless comments on her bright pink nails and the state of her hair. It was all in good jest. After a minute or so, DeLa returned with a steaming mug which Trixie thankfully took a sip from. It was a little stronger than she would have liked, but she was in no state to complain.

“So, you’re going to pack up your things, and then what?” The darker haired woman back-tracked to their prior conversation.

“I’m going to go home for a bit, I think. Or maybe another city.” Trixie had one paycheck to get her around, so her options were quite limited. She just knew she needed to get out.

* * * 

Despite how she felt, she’d made a promise to perform at Craig’s birthday show, and Trixie Mattel never broke her promises. She was far too stubborn and strong-willed to completely bitch out.

Her preparation for the song had been solely dedicated to learning David Bowie on guitar, which wasn’t exactly an easy feat. So, she’d fallen back on her original song, which only pained her even more now. 

“You look so beautiful, Tracy.” Kim gave her colleague a hug that completely engulfed the blonde. Word had gotten around apparently, not only of her crush, but of what had happened.

“Thanks, Kim.” Her voice had been quiet all night, and she didn’t particularly care to partake in any banter right now.

Her outfit alone was causing her enough stress as it was – a pink paisley mini dress, complete with bell sleeves and a pair of white knee high, heeled boots. She looked identical to a 70’s style Barbie, with her hair done in perfectly quaffed waves.

A few of the girls were already sitting in the audience, having finished their numbers for the night and joining the party. Trixie made her way to the stage, collecting her guitar from the wing.

She faked the biggest smile she possibly could before stepping out into the limelight, and was welcomed with an enormous amount of cheer. The sound only made her want to cry and run away, but she held on strong. This was supposed to be her safe haven.

“Evenin’ guys and dolls,” The greeting came like second nature to her. “I’m so happy that y’all could come out tonight to celebrate Craig’s birthday with us.”

Her eyes searched the room to find him settled on a cocktail table with Katya right next to his side. She avoided her gaze completely, knowing that if she did, she’d fall apart in front of everyone.

“I was going to sing some Bowie for you Craig, but turns out, I fucking suck at anything that’s not Fleetwood Mac, Dolly Parton or Avril Lavigne.” She joked, knowing full well that she could learn any song she wanted to, and perfect it, if she had the time.

“Instead I have a little original song that I thought up just this week, so be gentle with me. It’s called ‘Yellow Cloud’, and it was a hypothetical song about spending the rest of your life with the one you love…no matter what trials and tribulations come along the way.” Her voice stammered slightly more than she hoped it would.

Trixie immediately found solace as she began to play her guitar. Musical therapy truly was a blessing.

“ _I can see us in a small town,_  
_You count the stars up in the sky._  
_Doesn’t seem that they could fall down,_  
_On to your suit or on your tie._ ”

Her singing voice faltered somewhat. It was difficult to not read into her own lyrics, especially considering everything that had happened last night. It was suddenly hitting her that all of those perfect moments she’d imagined with Katya we all null and void.

“ _Across the table at a French place,_  
_I lose my way into the wine._  
_With your glasses on your pretty face,_  
_We can go up, baby we can float up._ ”

Her brown hues glazed over to Katya, she couldn’t help it any longer. The twinge in her chest only grew, disabling her ability to breathe properly. God, she so desperately wanted to get this over with.

“ _Say we’ll never come back down to the place in the yellow cloud._  
_Yours forever, thumbtacked down._  
_Oh, say you’ll never come back down to the place in the yellow cloud._

_Days are runnin’ at a slow pace,_  
_And all the glitter in between,_  
_And all the fall-out from the one race,_  
_I’m Miss America Teen._

_I can see the picket fences._  
_I can see you all alone._  
_Got no fear, got no pretences._  
_We got nothin’ but our sunglasses on._ ”  


This was the part of the song that was meant to be stupid and fun-loving, but instead, she felt a couple of tears spill from her eyes, on to her cheeks. She was crying in front of a crowd, and she’d never felt sorrier for herself.

“ _Say we’ll never come back down to the place in the yellow cloud._  
_Yours forever, thumbtacked down._  
_Oh, say you’ll never come back down to the place in the yellow cloud._

_When we’re older, we’ll stay the same_  
_Couple of losers who won the game,_  
_And it gets colder, but it never ends.”_

__

Before she could even finish the piece, she noticed Katya get up from the table, retreating straight to the bathroom in a nearby hallway. Trixie was unsure whether her heart was falling into her stomach, or if it was causing bile to rise in her throat. She felt hopeless.

“ _Say we’ll never come back down to the place in the yellow cloud._  
Yours forever, thumbtack down.  
Oh, say you’ll never come back down to the place in the yellow cloud.”

Before she could even receive her applause, she raced off the stage, ditching her guitar and heading straight to the same bathroom that Katya had entered. The Russian woman looked nothing like herself with her 70’s inspired outfit of a mismatched print dress, wooden platform black boots and her waves wildly teased out. They finally looked somewhat cohesive together for once.

Her boss was bracing herself against the sink, eyes now on the other blonde. 

“That takes some nerve, Trixie.” Katya’s makeup had smudged slightly from where she’d been crying too. 

Trixie was so used to seeing her boss as unbreakable, but this was in a completely different light. It was an edge of vulnerability that she’d never even anticipated. Usually Katya was the one holding Trixie together.

“I wasn’t going to fuck up Bowie in front of Craig.” She shrugged somewhat, attempting to lighten the mood before she caught her own reflection in the mirror. Her foundation had two tiny trails sweeping through it, from crying. Quickly brushing them away, she blended her base with her fingers, attempting to cover it up.

“Why didn’t you call, or even just message me and let me know you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere last night?” Katya still refused to stand up straight. 

Trixie wanted so desperately to hold her hand, but she knew she had to stand her ground, especially with the heartache she was feeling right now. There were so many emotions that had been left unsaid between the two of them. 

“I couldn’t – I couldn’t speak to you.” 

“I said I’d explain.” The Bostonian reasoned.“So explain.” The Barbie’s words came out a little harsher than intended, but she was desperate for answers. 

Katya fell silent, and Trixie shook her head averting her gaze to the ground. She’d never been so uncomfortable in her life; but in the back of her mind, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Her fight or flight response was unanimously telling her to stay and talk things out with this woman, otherwise maybe she’d never get the chance.

But Katya wasn’t saying anything. She had no answers – not even a lame excuse to sugar-coat the hurt. It was both a blessing and a curse.

“I’m going home.” Trixie whispered in defeat.

“Home as in…?” Katya looked blatantly shocked at her confession.

“Milwaukee, for a little while.”

“Is it safe?”

“I’ll find somewhere else if it’s not.”

All her hard work that had gone into making Los Angeles a home, seemed to be falling apart at her feet. Nothing felt _right_ anymore. Candidly speaking, she didn’t know if she really was going home. The thought of braving her family right now only put her stomach in knots.

“I don’t want you to go.” Katya piped up, her lightly calloused hands found Trixie’s cheeks, and the younger one inadvertently flinched. Affection in times of strife wasn’t something that she was used to.

“Why?”

Again, they were stuck in dead silence with only the ambient sound from the club outside of the bathroom door. She was losing her emotional strength, feeling her eyes pool with tears once more. “Tell me.” She pleaded, noticing the same glassiness in her boss’ hues.

It was as if any thread of power play between the two of them had disappeared. They were on a completely even playing field. 

It was apparent that Katya wasn’t used to admitting her feelings to anyone, let alone Trixie, but she almost felt foolish for assuming this would change everything. 

Trixie wasn’t going to stay around for conflict. She’d had enough of it for one lifetime, even if she was rarely ever the one instigating it. Her hands plastered on top of Katya’s, breaking the contact from her own cheeks and parting the two of them. 

“I can’t be here anymore, Kat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops.
> 
> Also please find Trixie's new song 'Yellow Cloud', which she sang in PTown' and listen to it multiple times. It's floating around Tumblr, and a few Twitter's as well. Not to be dramatic, but it'll change your life.


	11. There are worse things I could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: homophobic slurs, hints of previous sexual violence.
> 
> I'm so sorry that this took me so long to update, but I should be more on schedule now with the upcoming chapters. My life has been so hectic, but I'm back, back, back again.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr: @iqkittygirl
> 
> Enjoy!

A week had passed since Trixie had left Los Angeles. The expanse of seven days had never felt so long. After just twenty-four hours, she’d woken up with a pang in her chest that she vowed would pass as time ticked by, but it seemed to be doing the opposite. Her last pay cheque was running out, and the dwindling amount in her bank account only made her more miserable.

She’d been back in Milwaukee for all this time, and yet, she hadn’t been home yet. The grimy, understated motel she resided at was her port of call; her only place to rest her head for the evening. The prospect of counting sheep in her childhood home, with her step-father on the other side of the wall, was enough to make her shudder. 

Emotionally, she was under enough stress at the moment. Her dissociative state was slipping further and further from her control. There were only so many hours she could spend behind in a musty enclosure, with mildew building on the eaves of the ceiling. For the sake of her own sanity, her cell phone had been permanently turned off for the most part. She’d texted DeLa when she’d arrived in Wisconsin, but apart from that, she wanted nothing more than to be off the grid.

Her mind wandered every now and then as to whether Katya had been asking after her, or if her colleagues had been missing her at the club. But nonetheless, she refused to linger on that curiosity for too long, knowing it would eventually eat away at her. 

She had to get out of the confines of her motel room.

* * * 

The tacky flashing neon sign immediately drew Trixie in – maybe because it was somewhat familiar to the one that overarched Club Katya, or maybe because the entire prospect of seeing a psychic reminded her very much of a certain Russian woman. The fact that it was starting to rain was only more of a sign to take cover in that store.

A small bell chimed upon her impact with the door, and much to her own premonition, the shop was empty. Somehow she knew that these places weren’t too popular in the Midwest.

“Just a second, I’m just cleansing these damn crystals!” A voice called from the back room.

Trixie arched her brow at the recognisable tone, but immediately brushed it off, entranced by the display of dream catchers hung above her. Some of them were so large that the feathers just bypassed the height of her blonde locks.

A bustling cough startled her, causing her to turn abruptly and gauge the sight of a ginger haired woman, feebly attempting to put out a sage smudge stick in a ceramic bowl of sand. Trixie’s eyes widened immediately.

“Is that my prairie princess?” 

“Jinkxy?”

The woman dropped her implements on the counter straight away, meeting in the middle for a warm embrace that Trixie didn’t know she desperately craved until now. Being in solitude for a week really had made her miss human contact.

Jinkx and Trixie had attended the University of Wisconsin together for one very brief year, before Trixie dropped out and moved back into her family home. She had approximately 365 days of freedom, before becoming fully unable to support herself and carry on her Bachelor’s degree in Education. Her dreams of becoming a music teacher were few and far between nowadays. She chose that degree from a practical standpoint, and yet Los Angeles had taught her that maybe it was okay to chase your ambitions…even if it ended in heartbreak, and not even the kind she would even imagine.

She was raised to make money, not have pipe dreams like becoming a singer or being on stage, let alone as a burlesque dancer. The two had met sharing a dorm together, with Jinkx studying anthropology, but much like a lot of college friendships, when Trixie dropped out, the relationship dissolved. It wasn’t for any reason in particular…they just fell out of touch.

“So, this is where your degree got you, huh?” Trixie mused, pulling back and signalling to the store’s surroundings.

“Are you really all that surprised?” The other woman mused, proudly following her friend’s gaze around the shop. 

Everything was immaculately displayed with each crystal having its own place, and each tarot card perfectly sorted into their decks. 

“What about you? Rumor has it that you left town…obviously not.” Jinkx pried with a curious inflection.

Trixie thought that the moment she left her small town in Wisconsin, she would be immune to the sharp sting of small talk – it spread so fast back here. Turns out, word got around just as quickly as it used to, and it didn’t hurt any less than she’d remembered.

“I was in LA for a little while, actually.” The blonde’s voice dropped somewhat, almost feeling as though her feat in that city was a failure now. 

“Chasing your dreams of being a guitar slinging Barbie doll?” Jinkx prodded, with a wink.

“Slight change of plans,” She grimaced somewhat, a small pink stone catching her eye on the counter. It was perfectly polished into the shape of a heart. She spun it through her fingers aimlessly. “I’m a burlesque dancer now…sometimes I get to sing though.”

Even the slightest implication towards the club caused the dull ache to return to her chest when she’d thought she’d just overcome it. She idled those thoughts, forcing them away from her mind. It was almost as though she was constantly being reminded of Katya – did she ever have a train of thought before that woman had come along?

“This store is gorgeous though.” Trixie cut off her own contemplation. 

“Thank you,” Jinkx mimicked a curtsy, hoisting her ankle grazing black skirt up somewhat. “I was hoping to go back to Seattle and open it, but turns out, the market is shit for swamp witches no matter where they are – ”

Trixie interrupted her abruptly, which was a terrible habit she was developing. But deep down she knew it was because she got too excited to express herself.

“That reminds me, shall I recall the first time we met?” 

“You mean that time when you actually did spread rumours about me being a swamp witch?”

“…look, you were in a floor length gown, and had wet hair. Before I could introduce myself, you flew across the moon!” The blonde jokingly reached towards the sky, rounding out the punchline of her joke perfectly as she was met with cackling laughter from her friend.

It felt so warm and comforting to be in this situation – it was familiar in a way that didn’t concern Katya. Her mind was free from her for the most part. Maybe coming back home wasn’t such a bad idea. 

“Well, you really spoke that into existence, huh?” Jinkx eyed her counterpart up and down, almost as if she was analysing her. Trixie shifted slightly, noticing her gaze. There was no malice intended, but more so curiosity. “Something’s different about you…you’re unsure about something for once in your life.”

Katya.

“Oh?” She tried acting dumb, as if she couldn’t possibly know what her friend was talking about.

“I think you need a little self-love, sugar.” Jinkx offered the blonde a small wink before wandering over to a shelf full of inconspicuous items.

Trixie cautiously followed behind her, her brown hues scanning down the assortment of what, upon further inspection, seemed to be sex toys formed out of polished crystals. She was in shock for two reasons; firstly, that these things even existed, and secondly the reason being that they were equally as mesmerizing. 

“I didn’t even know that these were a thing.” She leaned over, gently taking hold of one that was slightly arched, and marbled with a beautiful pink coloring. 

“Rose quartz,” The witchy woman stated immediately. Everyone and their mother was familiar with this stone. “It’s not just meant to bring about love, but it’s good for self-love too.”

Trixie was mesmerized. Crystals were never really her thing, but she had a few rings with precious stones in them that she loved dearly. Why not make her first proper purchase be from someone she cared about?

“It’s so pretty.” She continued to examine the piece.

“It’s on the house.” 

She shook her head, completely taken aback. 

“What? No. I can’t let you do that.” Trixie justified.

“Look. I haven’t seen you in a while, let me just get this one thing?” The redhead wandered over to the counter, pulling out a pale pink silk bag to match the sex toy. 

“You really don’t have to.”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

* * * 

“Okay, you’re going to get in the mood, you’re going to cum multiple times, and it’s going to be great.” Trixie attempted to pep herself up as she lay back in bed.

It wasn’t exactly a romantic setting, even for her. The walls of the motel were paper thin, and she was certain the brown stain on the corner of the ceiling was mould. The heater didn’t work, especially with temperatures dipping down now that it was well and truly Fall. Wisconsin wasn’t exactly Los Angeles in the sense that the moment the seasons changed into the colder months, the rain seemed constant. 

She lay bundled up in an oversized pastel pink sweater, in sheets that she was even unsure if they were clean. But this was all she could afford for the moment. Every last cent of her money would have to be used up before she came knocking on her family’s door. This was good enough.

The blonde leaned over to the nightstand, taking her phone and beginning to flick through a porn website, specifically clicking on the category of girl on girl videos. Page after page was full of crappy thumbnails, that had barely any thought put into them. In all honesty, she had no desire to click on any. The struggle was real when it seemed at all lesbian porn was made for men’s enjoyment, rather than women. 

Rolling her eyes, she finally settled on a video. They all seemed to have a common theme; a shit storyline, false acrylic nails that looked like they could slaughter someone’s insides, and a fake orgasm to match. 

Her mind unconsciously slipped back the moment the video ended, it hadn’t aroused her whatsoever. She groaned in frustration, digging the back of her head harder against the pillow. This was the first time she’d properly tried to treat herself since she’d left Hollywood, and it was backfiring completely.

Flickering her eyes closed, her mind flashed to Katya and the moment they shared before the date with Tatianna – when she’d done her makeup and dolled her up, only to be appreciated by another woman. Who knew that it would hit her so terribly hard.

Her fingertips crept down the expanse of her torso, finding relief under her pink lace panties. The thought of their hips meeting in the makeup chair only forced her to buckle forward, desperately seeking more from her own touches.

She’d gotten off to this memory before, a mere few minutes after the event took place, but it was still something that she couldn’t unwill from her mind. In all honesty, she couldn’t imagine doing this to the thought of anyone else. All she wanted was Katya, and who was she to deprive herself of those fantasies in this very moment. 

There had been so many missed opportunities when it came to closing the gap with that Russian. Her mind progressed through the different variables; when she’d stayed a few nights in Katya’s domain, when they’d fought over something as stupid as a pillow and she crowded on top of the smaller blonde…so many possibilities that Trixie let fall from her own grasp.

Her fingertips swirled against her as she relived it all, and the material that was caging her hand, now clung to her arousal. What if she stayed? What if she stayed a minute longer in the bathroom and just kissed Katya? Maybe she wouldn’t have come back home, and maybe she wouldn’t be going at it alone in a motel room in the middle of the Midwest.

She could have been in Katya’s bed, with her red lips leaving imprints against her fair skin, marking their territory. Trixie could have been writhing beneath her, begging for Katya’s signal to allow her to cum. A moan escaped her mouth against her will, as her left hand found the sex toy she’d been gifted. 

She rushed to pull her underwear down, kicking it off beneath the sheets before teasing the cold, smooth implement at her entrance. The temperature caused her to intake a sharp breath, before she inched her legs wider, allowing it comfortably inside her. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she adjusted to the size before slowly, she began easing it in and out of her at a perfect pace.

Katya. Katya. Katya.

These could have been her boss’ motions that she was meeting, from her harness and toy. The thought of Katya praising her and focusing entirely on Trixie made her more wet as the seconds ticked on. She picked up the pace, returning her right hand to her clit as she jerked her hips against the toy. 

It was this bittersweet mix of emotion that tipped her over the edge into ecstasy, a near cry of pleasure that caused her back to arch and her body to tense in the most delicious way. As she came down, her sensitivity only heightened, causing more inevitable moans to slip out. 

A sudden banging on the wall behind her broke her daze. 

“Can you two keep it the fuck down in there?” A disgruntled man from the next room complained.

Trixie let out a huff, slipping the crystal from the confines of her inner thighs, and regressing back into the bed. Her surroundings suddenly became clearer again – she was in the furthest place from Katya’s bedroom.

* * *

Suburbia – not the wealthy, ‘Edward Scissorhands’ kind either. Under-privileged suburbia had a different vibe – broken fences complete with overgrown yards. It was all they’d been able to afford, and all these years on, gentrification wasn’t even a threat because this small town was too far gone.

“Thanks for making the trip.” Trixie smiled towards the mirror, being greeted by the eyes of an older man.

“Forty dollars, 20 cents plus tip.” He huffed, evidently wanting to get on to the next job he had. It was times like this that she prayed Uber was available here, but no one would take the journey out here.

She handed over the money, plus a tip of whatever she could manage. That left her with a total of $50 left. Just enough to get back into town. Then, she was lost. Maybe she’d have to stay back here for a while, as much as her heart beckoned her heart to LA.

Slamming the car door behind her, she heaved a deep breath as a hypothetical muster of confidence. Her feet instinctively carried her to the weathered porch, where she hesitantly knocked on the door.

This was it.

The door crept open almost cautiously, before she was met with a face that she’d so missed. 

“Hi Mom.”

The older woman’s face lit up at the sight of her daughter. 

“You look so different, Trixie!” Valerie leaned in, enveloping her in a hug that only she was capable of. “How long has it been? Look at my beautiful girl from Hollywood.” She pulled back only to lean up, holding her daughter’s cheeks affectionately.

Trixie’s face was red now. She was hardly wearing anything scandalous. Her old sweaters were becoming a staple – somehow, she thought that Wisconsin wouldn’t appreciate a corset and some fishnets.

“Who’s at the door?” 

Trixie’s mood immediately dropped, her smile failing completely. For some obscene reason, she was praying that her step father wouldn’t be home. It was late in the afternoon – usually around the same time where he’d be down at the bar drinking one too many beers.

Before her mother could even say anything, he appeared in a tattered white singlet, haphazardly tucked into a pair of stained jeans. Her mother was too good for him, and she knew it. She’d been adamant about that fact all her life.

Every inch of her body itched at the sight of him. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t.

“Trixie, haven’t you grown up? You look like a woman now.” That comment alone caused bile to rise in the back of her throat. After everything that had happened, all it took was that comment to make her feel violated.

She crossed her arms over her chest, her sweater and jeans thankfully covering enough. She hated wearing jeans, but it was a necessary evil.

“Uhh, LA definitely changes you!” Her voice was shaky, and her tone was overly enthusiastic. She was trying so desperately hard to put on a front.

“Val, I’m headin’ out. I’ll be back whenever.” The burly figure grabbed a set of keys off a small table, pushing past Trixie with a sly rub on her back on the way out.

She shuddered at the contact, immediately stepping aside. 

“Do you want a coffee? Some food?” Valerie asked obliviously. 

The invitation sounded far too enticing, especially considering the lack of money she was now dealing with. “Both, if possible.”

Her mother gave her a gentle smile before heading around the corner into the kitchen. She felt like a stranger in what was her own home, following Valerie like a puppy dog with its tail in between her legs. 

“Can I help with anything?” She asked.

“No, no. Take a seat at the table, hun.”  
She did as she was told.

Conversation progressed from pleasantries to questions about Trixie’s job. She completely missed everything about having her drink spiked, and Josh coming to visit her. Even talking about Katya made her chest ache. 

They bonded over coffee, and pasta. A strange combination. But she was in no way going to judge her mother on how she was going to cater for her daughter. They were both skint on money. Food was food, at the end of the day, and Trixie was thankful for that.

“Mom, really, you don’t need to.” 

“I want to help you out. I can give you enough to get back to LA…that’s your home now.” Val was empathetic, yet proud of how far her daughter had come, and obviously wanted her to go even further with her career.

* * * 

“She’s wearing pink again – wonder who that’s for.” Violet drawled.

“It makes her look so soft.” DeLa retorted.

“It’s the typical problem with lesbians,” Adore smirked. “You don’t know whether you want to be them, or fuck them.” 

That comment was met with a gaggle of laughter that sounded like pure music to Trixie’s ears. She missed this hallway, and she’d snuck in through the alley door undetected, beyond thankful that Katya wasn’t out there taking a smoke break. What a difference two weeks could make.

She craved being back in the arms of her sisters. Sure, she’d been contacting them via texts and phone calls for the past fourteen days, but it wasn’t the same. 

“God, I can hear you dykes down the hall.” Trixie finally piped up, leaning against the doorway.  
She’d told no one that she was coming back, but the truth was, she needed the money. As for work, she was unsure whether or not Club Katya would be her employer. Would Katya even want her back after everything that’s happened between the two?

Admittedly, she was still petrified of seeing that Russian because of the reception she could potentially get. 

“Trixie!” DeLa rushed over to her, almost bowling her over in a hug and a simple kiss to the cheek. The other girls excitedly followed, almost like a group embrace.

This. This is what she missed. They were her chosen family, even though she almost sort of stumbled into this crazy world. 

“You’re going to freak when you see Katya.” Violet admitted. “She’s on in like, an hour. She’d gag if she saw you in the crowd, bitch.”

The idea was tempting beyond belief, not to mention, she was yet to say ‘hello’ to Craig. It was strange being back in the club as a spectator, rather than a dancer. 

“Well, I need to get myself a drink.” Trixie shrugged, edging to walk back down the hall and into the audience. “I promise I’ll come back.” 

She found her way easily to the bar, taking a seat right in front of Craig. He turned around from drying a few glasses, before a large smile graced his features.

“Hey stranger.” Trixie gently flipped her blonde waves over her shoulder. She tried her absolute hardest to suppress a grin, but she couldn’t hold it back.

Despite all the pain she’d experienced the last time she was back in this club, she’d also found solace in these four walls. Whether she liked it or not, this was her home. Coming from Milwaukee, she assumed that her residence would be perfect, and offer her no emotional knicks or grazes. But that just wasn’t realistic. Everything was relative.

“Let me guess,” Craig rubbed his chin momentarily as he cautiously eyed the blonde before him. He was sporting a new look that presumably was modelled after 70’s male porn stars, moustache included. “Gin and tonic?” 

“I’m getting too predictable, aren’t I?” Trixie retorted immediately with a laugh, and noted that he was already fixing her drink.

There stood a momentarily silence, only crowded by the peripheral noise of the patrons. She wanted to ask about Katya, about Tatianna, and what things had been like over the past couple of weeks during her absence.

“So, what brings you back here?” He asked.

Fuck. He beat her to it.

What was she supposed to say? ‘ _Well, I went to back to Milwaukee, saw and old college friend who gave me a glass dildo and I couldn’t get off because of that stupid Russian that you work with, plus I ran out of money and my mother gave me enough to get back to LA but I need a job, do you think Katya will re-hire me? _’. Hell no.__

__“I missed everyone.” Technically, she wasn’t lying…she just wasn’t giving him the whole truth behind it all._ _

__“Everyone or…someone in particular?” Craig finished off her drink with a black straw, setting it upon the counter and edging it towards her, causing it to spill slightly._ _

__She swiped her finger along the side of the glass, capturing some of the residual overflow, before popping it into her mouth innocently. She gave him a faint shrug, feeling her cheeks deepen with heat._ _

__He was already beating her at her own game._ _

__Trixie leaned in, meeting her drink halfway before taking a long-needed sip. No one made a mixer like Craig, especially in Los Angeles._ _

__“She’s been trying to contact you.” He stood back against the middle island, wrapping his arms over his chest as he eyed her. “She comes in every morning asking if anyone’s heard an update from you.”_ _

__Trixie’s gaze dipped embarrassingly, before taking another drink. Alcoholism wasn’t her thing, but she needed something in this very moment to calm down her nerves._ _

__“I texted DeLa often enough.” She reasoned._ _

__Silence, again. So maybe it wasn’t fair to leave Katya completely in the dark during her time away, but she couldn’t trust herself with what she’d do after hearing that woman’s voice._ _

__In all honesty, she was feeling much better. Her time away had settled a lot for her; gave her some closure with her family life, and brought about a whole new mindset in terms of her emotional standing. Trixie really and truly felt the dust start to settle with whatever was going on around her._ _

__“Craig, can you please tell me why table eighteen just made me take their order, and Willam is nowhere to be seen?”_ _

__Oh, Jesus Christ, there it was. That voice. _Her_ voice. In all honesty, she had no idea how she was going to react when she saw Katya again, and it was as if her body was being set alight, and submerged into an ice bath all at once. _ _

__“He’s probably taking a smoke break or something.” He replied nonchalantly._ _

__Trixie kept her head down, and for some reason maybe she thought she was being ignored, or dodging Katya’s attention. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this reunion. After all, she hadn’t even gotten a proper view of her boss until she stumbled over in a pair of stilettos. Frustrated, she slammed down a tray on the bar, shifting empty glasses from the mat._ _

__It was so like her; to be off in her own little world, especially when the venue was this busy._ _

__Trixie looked up, just slightly to catch Craig’s attention. ‘Who’s Willam?’ She mouthed, with a slight cringe._ _

__“Oh, just a new waiter we hired, Trixie, don’t worry!” He bellowed back, exaggerating her name to purposely draw attention to her._ _

__So much for flying under the radar._ _

__Katya snapped her head around, and that’s when Trixie saw her in plain view – her usual robe had been replaced with a pink one, which even reminded her of one of her own. The colour clashed perfectly with her signature red lip, and she sported much more of a softer, gold toned eye._ _

__“Trix…” Katya was gripping the tray again, so tightly that her knuckles turned white from the pressure._ _

__“Hi.” Was all Trixie could muster._ _


	12. Oh, fantasy free me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised this chapter a few days ago, but something came up. Alas, here it is. Thank you all so much for your patience. 
> 
> As promised on Tumblr, this chapter features a couple of Halloween costumes that may sound familiar - one of Trixie's from this year's shows, and an outfit that Katya has often worn in the past. 
> 
> Enjoy! X
> 
> Tumblr: @iqkittygirl

Trixie’s right hand clutched the glass tumbler, praying that the dampness was the condensation coming off the side of the drink, rather than her palms sweating out of pure anxiety. 

As flustered as Katya looked, she was still a vision. The pastel pink robe was detailed with small ruffles around the sleeves, and her waist was perfectly cinched with a matching tie. Trixie was being blatantly taunted by the fabric on her shoulders slipping down ever so slightly, to reveal almost a bondage style bra underneath. Her hips shifted uncomfortably in the seat, averting her eyes immediately back to the blonde’s face.

Despite the time the two of them had spent apart, Katya looked good – her skin was glowing, and her teeth were just as white as ever; a medical mystery considering she smoked so much. 

She could tell this woman was slightly hesitant, desperately trying to not overstep any boundaries considering the slight mental breakdown they had in the bathroom not that long ago.

“W-What are you doing here?” The Russian was baffled just by the doll’s presence.

“Two weeks in the Midwest was enough to make me realise that home really and truly is here.” Trixie’s teeth dug into her plush pink lower lip.

She completely left out the part about missing her boss. Well, ex-boss? Potentially. Regardless, the Bostonian was doing her best to shift her weight between the stilettos of her designer heels. 

“It’s good to have you back.” Katya attempted to play it cool, but she’d started nervously drumming her index finger against the tray. It was these little quirks that allowed Trixie to gain a deeper understanding of the woman before her. “So, where are you staying?”

Fuck. 

In all honesty, she hadn’t even thought about that. Her suitcases were sitting by the alley door backstage, but she had no prospect of accommodation as of yet. Before she could even formulate a response in her mind, she realised she’d been silent for a good ten seconds out of pure contemplation.

Thank god Craig had picked up on it.

“With me.” He shrugged. “Right, Trixie?”

She was beyond thankful that he’d come in to save the conversation. 

The last thing she wanted to do was come on too strong with Katya and force herself back on her couch. What if Tatianna was still around? The thought made her internally shudder. It would be her worst nightmare, and only wind her back up in the position she was in before she left for the Midwest.

“Right.” She beamed a smile that she was sure Katya would see right through. “Just until I find a job and another place?”

There was a beat of silence, and Katya shifted back on her heels with an obvious smirk. 

“Oh, so you’re too good for the club now?” Her tone was playful, and held that same energy that had been so dearly missed.

“No, no. I just didn’t know if you’d have me back.” The taller blonde blurted out, not wanting to insult her and the entire establishment.

The older of the two stepped forward, finally taking her leave away from the tray she had obviously grown so fond of over the past few minutes. Katya held out her hand, almost as a truce, or a welcome back. The playing ground felt equal, but Trixie would be lying if she said she didn’t want anything more than a handshake. 

Reciprocating the gesture, the butterflies in her stomach reignited at her touch. She thought she had all of this completely under control, but suddenly she felt idiotic for presuming her feelings towards Katya would dissipate in the span of 14 days.

She didn’t want to let go…but she did. She had to. 

“Well I’m on soon, so I have to touch up,” Her Boston accent had an excitable twinge of happiness to it, and she gestured towards the stage. “I didn’t rip up your contract by the way…so don’t worry about resigning anything.”

Trixie gave her a gentle nod, watching as her counterpart walked away. She let out a sigh of relief once more before turning to face Craig who stood with a shit-eating grin. 

“What?” She exclaimed, acting completely innocent to the fact that she’d gotten herself into a good place. Innocently, the blonde took a long sip from her drink. 

“You’re getting a shitty moth-eaten blanket, and the couch.” Craig smirked. 

“Ugh, reminds me of home.” Trixie sarcastically retorted.

* * * 

“So, are all lesbians connected? Is it true?” Craig took a slice of pizza from the box before edging it Trixie’s way. She didn’t flinch at the question whatsoever, but rather, she spent her seconds attempting to suppress a laugh from passing her lips.

“What?” Craig prodded, with a stupendous smile.

The blonde’s eyes faltered only momentarily as she took her own helping of pizza. “Have you been watching ‘The L Word’ or something?”

Craig looked defeated and almost ashamed. Trixie lost it, breaking out in a bout of laughter. It was common for every lesbian and their cat to have watched that television show, but it wasn’t exactly prime viewing for a heterosexual male. 

“Alice made that chart though, and I just assumed that it’s actually plausible.” He tried to reason, as if his hypothesis was completely correct, and the television show was an honest depiction of a lesbian’s lifestyle.

To a certain extent, Trixie knew it to be true. But from personal experience, especially in this city, she’d slept with a total of zero people, which equated to her name being completely left off this supposed chart.

“What else have you learnt from the show, hm?” She pried, happily eating her way through half the slice, and chasing it with a beer.

“That lesbians fist each other.” 

She choked on her drink with an abrupt cough, the liquid dripping down from her chin and on to her sweatpants. Carefully, she set the bottle back upon the coffee table, grabbing a napkin to clean up the small mess, as well as her face. 

“I mean, you’re not wrong there.” Trixie shrugged, Craig’s eyes widening at the confirmation. “If we want to spice it up in the bedroom, we wear a bangle.” She shimmied slightly as she told the joke.

Craig’s palms slammed down on the table as he erupted with laughter. It was a sight that Trixie adored, and making people laugh was a true feat on her behalf. Any form of entertainment, to her, was special. Maybe it was something she had realised when she was younger; seeking refuge with ‘Saved by the Bell’ or sneaking over to her friend’s house to watch MTV dating shows. Regardless, making people happy was one of her biggest talents – a testament as to why she probably enjoyed performing at the club, just as much as she does when she sings for an audience.

The hilarity died down somewhat, the both of them trying to catch their breath before she continued to eat.

“I hate to change this fascinating subject, but what are you dressing up as for the annual Halloween party?” Craig grabbed the neck of his own beer bottle, taking a hefty swig.

“Halloween party? I was _not_ informed about this.” She brushed the idea off. Halloween was a couple of days away, and she didn’t exactly have any plans, but did she really want to go out? Do people in Los Angeles even celebrate Halloween, other than celebrities?

“We do it every year. DeLa usually hosts it with her husband.” 

This was complete news to her. It was hard to picture Dustin even getting dressed up for the occasion at all. “I had no idea.” Trixie uttered. 

She had forty-eight hours to find herself an outfit, and on a budget no doubt. To say she was stressed was most definitely an understatement.

“Why don’t you go as Dolly Parton, that’s an easy reach?” He suggested, ushering his beverage towards her slightly as he spoke.

“It’s too predictable.” Trixie groaned, leaning back and resting her head against the cushion of the couch behind her. “I was Dolly Parton or Barbie interchangeably every year in high school and college…Wait!”

Her abrupt call made him jump slightly.

“Jesus Christ, what?” He complained.

“High school…oh my god.”

“I’m not followin-”

“I always wanted to be part of the cheer squad in my senior year, but I never had the courage to try out. I guess now, I don’t have to.”

* * *

“I’m regretting not being like…a slutty Jason Voorhees or something.” Trixie scoffed, attempting to pull down the hem of her shiny, pleated pink skirt as she exited the Uber with her newfound roommate adjacent to her.

“Agreed. I thought Halloween meant that you had to dress up?” Craig teased, straightening his blue and red bodysuit and Trixie only rolled her eyes in reply.

As the Uber pulled out of the driveway, she stepped closer to him, fixing up the matching lightning bolt she’d painted across the expanse of his facial features.

“Do I look like him?” It was obvious he was nervous, and she couldn’t help but find it endearing. 

All of the girls were used to dressing up every night on stage, but Craig never really got the opportunity to – now that he did, he was relishing it. 

“Exactly like Bowie.” She offered him a wink before turning towards the door of the familiar house where she could hear the music booming from the outset. The porch of the home was riddled with fake cobwebs and carved pumpkins, which Trixie could only assume Rosie had helped out with. Knocking at the door was pointless with the residual noise, so instead, she let themselves inside.

Now her own anxiety was setting in. She instinctively coddled herself in her white varsity jacket that was detailed with an identical metallic pink colour to her skirt. The ‘T’ on her white leotard underneath was now almost completely hidden to the naked eye as she walked down the hallway.

“Trixie!” DeLa nearly bowled her over with a hug – which was just about customary now with her friend. She barely recognised her in a red wig. “You look amazing! I didn’t realise you and Katya coordinated.”

“So do you, very Madelline Ashton.” The blonde did a second-take mid hug. “Wait, sorry, what? W-We didn’t.”

“Oh? You look like you’re on competing squads.” DeLa giggled, pulling back and that’s when Trixie saw her.

Katya was also wearing a similar cheer uniform; a loosely pleated skirt in red and white, with a customised long sleeve top that matched, labelling her name along her chest. Her hair was slightly teased, and straight compared to her usual waves. Her legs were clad with fishnets, and a pair of thigh highs.

As Trixie drank in the sight of her, it became hard for her to swallow. Katya was breathtaking at the best of times, but there was something so jarring about seeing her in this outfit. It completely slipped her mind that they were both dressed as cheerleaders right now. 

The Russian had completely drained Trixie’s attention from noticing the rest of the kitschy decorations that had been pristinely set up around the place. Everyone was dispersed around in small groups, accompanied by people that Trixie had never seen before. Craig had already left her side, interacting with his colleagues and receiving compliments on his outfit.

“She looks…” Trixie didn’t even get to finish her sentence to DeLa before she felt a small tug at the hem of her skirt. Glancing down, Trixie saw a small girl with a costume wig and pink dress that donned the letter ‘B’ in cursive. 

“I’m you! I’m Barbie.” Rosie squealed, clapping her hands together with excitement. The sight brought an immediate smile to Trixie’s features, before she got down on to her knees to be at eye-level with the child. 

“You look incredible, honeybear,” She leaned in slightly just to adjust the front of Rosie’s wig slightly. The sight was truly heart-warming, to the point that Trixie assumed her heart was going to combust. Having the knowledge that she had inspired this little girl to dress as Barbie was a beyond adorable achievement. 

“But do you know why I like Barbie so much, and why I like dressing up as her?”

“Why?” Rosie’s doe eyes were huge, and the glitter on her eyelids sparkled under the house lights. 

“She’s very smart. She can do anything that she sets her mind to,” As much as Trixie wanted to compliment the little girl on how cute she looked, she knew that this moment could be used for something better than that. “Look at how many career’s she’s had! A vet, a musician, a pilot…the list goes on.”

It was as if this young girl was hanging on to her every word in this very moment. 

“So, I could be all of those things?” Rosie quipped with a tinge of excitement to her voice.

“Mhmm,” Trixie nodded, gently tapping the little one’s temple with her index finger. “You have to think how you can use your brain to better the world.”

It’s everything that she would have loved to hear when she was younger, especially from her own parents. She basically got the opposite of such from her step-father. The expectations of where her life would take her weren’t exactly ridiculously high.

That’s why getting up on stage was so important to her – she was giving people an outlet, and a form of escapism that she would have killed for.

* * *

“Is it..okay if I drink around you?” Trixie hesitated, lowering her red cup just in case as she approached Katya on the back porch. Fairy lights gently illuminated the garden, which had a number of fake gravestones distributed along the lawn to complete the decorations.

She’d been at the party for a couple of hours now, despite even being dragged up to Rosie’s room for story time before bed. However, this was the first time that she’d properly managed to get a hold of her boss.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.” Katya gave an unsure smile, with a small shrug. 

Shit. 

Now Trixie felt awkward. She turned slightly, frantically glancing around for a table to set her cup down, away from her friend’s view…but there was nothing. Suddenly, her reflex took over and she hurled the contents of the drink into the garden below the stoop and Katya broke out in reeling amusement.

“I was kidding!” The Bostonian yelped between her gaps of laughter to catch her breath. 

Trixie’s cheeks suddenly burned with a rosy heat – a blush that was almost the norm around Katya now. Part of her assumed that her time away would have somehow altered her visceral reactions around the woman…but apparently not. It was just something she’d have to get used to all over again.

Embarrassingly, she set the empty paper cup down upon the banister, before burying her face in the palms of her hands. People humiliating themselves in front of their crushes was a typical rom-com movie trope that Trixie prayed would never happen to her, and yet, here she was in the middle of it.

“I was just trying to be considerate.” The taller blonde groaned, dropping her arms to cross over the ‘T’ marked on her chest. “You said you were struggling a little while ago, so I just didn’t want to make it harder for you.”

“You’re not.” Katya’s tone was appreciative in a way that Trixie knew she was even thankful for the sentiment. 

She couldn’t help but wonder if people had even cared about that in the past, regardless of whether or not they had been employed by her.

“I’m still mad at you for basically showing up in the same costume as me.” The Barbie pouted accordingly, her features now tinged with her signature bratty demeanour. 

“Tragic,” Katya rolled her eyes. “I didn’t realise I had to get your permission to dress up in a generic Halloween get-up.”

A gasp escaped Trixie’s mouth at that slight insult. It was only until now that she watched her breath slightly fog up the air in front of her. She pulled her bomber jacket tighter around her – the small breeze of Fall was well and truly being present.

“Don’t call my outfit ‘generic’, you bitch.” She teased. There was almost a weightlessness to their banter now. 

“I forgot that the kitten has a bite to her.”

“Excuse me?” 

Katya nonchalantly brushed off her qualm with a simple raise of her right brow. The tension felt so correct to Trixie. It was as if nothing with Tatianna had happened, and she didn’t even have that short sabbatical at home in Wisconsin. 

“I’m not _just_ a cheerleader,” Trixie’s attempt to reason with Katya almost seemed futile, but she was stubborn nonetheless. “I’m a cheer captain…which is more than I can say about you. With your outfit, I’d say you were more of a base or a spotter.” She nodded her head matter-of-factly.

Katya took a step forward, the air thick between them. Trixie didn’t move an inch, completely relentless to stand her own ground. God, she wanted to lean in just a little further and kiss her – to squash all those daydreams she’d had about making out with this woman, and replace them with an actual memory. She craved the satisfaction of fulfilling them completely. 

Trixie’s gaze averted to the woman’s usual cherry lips, flickering between them and her deep blue hues. Before she could even think about making a move, the other woman spoke up first.

Katya leaned in, her breath hot against Trixie’s ear for a second.

“When I was in high school, I always fantasised about fucking the cheer captain.” Katya whispered, before gently nudging Trixie’s shoulder as she walked past, on her way into the house.

The Barbie’s mouth hung slightly agape with a small whimper. Did she really just hear what she thought she heard? Surely she wasn’t dreaming all of this – her subconscious didn’t even have the nerve to conjure up a scenario like that.

Jesus Christ, she needed another drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think. I know it's a bit of a shorter chapter, but the next will follow on directly from this moment.


End file.
